Tides
by I-Dont-Ship-I-Yacht
Summary: What happened after Lorraine and Nikki's awkward-moment-thing at the end of the series...
1. Chapter 1

**Okay this is the first thing I've ever published on here so I have no idea what is going on or what I am doing. I just hope this is okay and yeah, if yous wanna comment that'd be awesome. Enjoy3 **

I can taste the silence in the room. Heavy tension on my tongue.

Michael flicks a few more pages, his frown deepening. His eyes move too fast, blurring as they skate over the increasingly messy handwriting. I can feel Lorraine's eyes flitting from Michael to me, and then back to Michael again. He turns past another page.

"Well...It look to me like she might've done it-" He glances up at us both, and suddenly we can breathe again, and we're laughing in relief. She's giggling, her hand almost brushing against my leg. Maybe she's looking at me. She sighs, happily.

"How's she managed that with everything that's happened?" I laugh. Relief washing through my voice. I'm asking Michael, but somehow I'm not looking at him. I'm looking at Lorraine. Magnetic.

"Well, maybe it made her more determined-" he's still hurriedly reading, nodding slightly now.

"She's done the PRU proud-" She's smiling, glancing up at me. I'm smiling back.

"Yeah-" I'm nodding. Somehow my voice is shaking.

"Put it with the others, I'm going to go and find her." He's nodding at me, passing me the exam paper, and striding out of his office. I wipe the palms of my hands against my trousers, fumbling with the exam paper that could change a girl's future.

"Great-" I grin at Lorraine, and turn to follow him. I'm almost at the door, but she begins to speak. I turn around, too quickly maybe. Too eager.

"So've you Nikki-" She says, still smiling. I frown, shaking my head a fraction. Her smile widens. She takes a step towards me. Two steps. She's pulling her bag onto her shoulder. Three steps now. God. "Done the PRU proud. Michael was right when he said; you were the woman for the job-"

"Thanks-" I laugh. She's giggling too. She's close now. Maybe too close. I think about taking a step away from her, but I don't. I think about a lot of things, but I don't do any of them. I try to breathe, glancing down at the floor. "It means a lot-" Maybe my voice has suddenly got a lot quieter. Maybe I can't hear myself speak over my stammering heartbeat.

I look up. And she's looking at me. If it was tense in here a few moments ago, now it's stifling. I can feel the sticky tension between us, filling up my mouth with cotton wool so I can't speak. I can barely breathe. And I suddenly realise that she's got impossibly blue eyes. How have I never noticed that before? And her smile is sliding from her face. And now there's something behind her eyes I've never seen before. Or maybe I haven't been looking properly. No. No. No. I tear my eyes away from her. She's out of bounds. She's straight-

"Errm, about the PRU, I should get back, I've gotta...clear up for the break-" I watch her as I speak. She opens her mouth a fraction. And blinks. She blinks twice. Looks down at the floor.

"Yeah, course-" She murmurs. I nod, and turn away. The silence betweens us seems to expand, filling the space, filling my ears with a fuzzy buzzing noise. I take another step, reaching for the door handle. And the silence stretches even further. I can't help it, I need to say something. Anything.

"Look, do you fancy going for a drink later?" I turn around. The words escape my lips before I can think about them, before I can over-analyse every syllable. Even before my lips have uttered the upwards lift to create the question, I'm already almost hoping that she'll say no. That she'll laugh it off, shrugging, briskly murmuring about asking her secretary to check her diary. But she doesn't.

"I...um..." She's staring at me. Her lips slightly parted. Trembling. Her eyes flash over my face before glancing to the floor.

"No, no worries...I'm sorry, it's just a thought-" I breathe. Glancing at her one last time. Quickly, eyes skating over her. And I'm already reaching for the door handle. And I leave. Before she can say anything.

**Here it switches to Lorraine's POV**

The corridors. Silent. I pull on my black blazer, crossing my arms tight across my chest. Too tight, so tight they restrict my breathing a fraction. So, in my messed up head, I could blame my faint breathlessness on that. I shake my head a fraction, because I know that I'm being stupid. I know that I need to snap out of this haze, and face up to that gaping hole in my orderly, highly functional life. The kind of hole that a PA filling up a diary with neatly colour-coded meetings, and another fat pay check injected into my account could never fill. I shake my head again. My blonde curls falling down, framing my face. And I bite my lips as I walk. Chewing off my faintly vanilla flavoured lipstick. And I'm glad that Michael isn't here to see me. Because I feel like a little child again, kept late after school in a dusty detention room. The same tired weight inside my chest, gnawing away at me. I keep my head down, my eyes fixed on the floor. My phone is on silent, because I don't want to know if anyone is calling me right now. I don't care.

I reach the top of the stairs and fight to resist the almost overwhelming urge to sink down to the baby blue linoleum floor, still streaky with the cleaner's bleach, and rest my spinning head against the cold metal railings. But I don't. I walk down the stairs, taking my time. One hand on the banister and the other by my side, then running though my blonde hair, and finally dropping back down to my side again. My palms still feel sticky. Too hot. Michael's office always was too hot. Or maybe it was the tension in that room, after he left that made sweat cling to my palms. Oh god-

And for what seems like the millionth time in the past half hour, I run over the conversation in my mind. Every minute detail, from the way her eyes moved to the precise tone of her laugh. Because it had not yet blurred into confusing, embarrassing and red-hot memory. It was still new, still raw. I chew my lips. And sigh.

At the foot of the stairs I pause, uncertainty licking at the corners of my mind. The door to the PRU is ajar, barely 50 yards from me. It would take me seconds to stride down that corridor, confidently. Chin up, smiling. And tell her that yeah, you know what, I would like to go for that drink. That I could meet her at eight, in a bar where I would know no one. And I could go home with a happy, warm glow inside my chest, a smile playing on my lips. It would be so easy. Too easy.

But I don't. Of course I don't.

I tilt my chin up to look blankly at the ceiling, as if I were trying to keep tears at bay. But I know I'm not going to cry. I just try to concentrate on my breathing, slowing it. Attempting, in vain, to slow my racing heartbeat too.

And I turn away.

The wide double doors are looming up ahead of me. I push through them.

And suddenly I'm in the schoolyard. Fumbling in my handbag, until I'm clutching my Ferrari keys in my shaking hands, my bag slung back over my shoulder. My heels unnaturally noisy. Everyone else must have gone home, but I barely noticed the school emptying around me. The car park is almost deserted too. But her car is still here. So she must still be in the PRU, tidying her desk, starting to methodically work her way through a mountain of marking. Surely she's not thinking about me. I could turn right back around, it's not too late yet. "She won't be thinking about you-" That thought, still lingering in my mind. And that last glimmer of hope dies inside my chest. I swear under my breath, and I click the keys, pulling open the glossy red door of my Ferrari. Getting in, throwing my handbag roughly onto the passenger seat. Slamming the door shut again. And now I really am alone, in a toy that cost me over a hundred thousand pounds. And I'm pulling on my seatbelt, shaking my hair over my shoulders. Igniting the softly purring engine.

And I pull out of the schoolyard. Down the hill, towards the coast. Easing into third gear, speeding up. And I barely notice the crashing waves of the sea or the baby blue sky as I drive home, back to my one bedroom apartment overlooking the bay.

I notice the sea later though. The crashing waves and spiralling spray on the turbulent surface. When I'm all alone on the cold wooden balcony, with a bottle of red wine and a packet of cigarettes for company. My phone still on silent in my jacket pocket. I tell myself that the office can live without me for one night. And I'm sure they can. I can't lie to myself anymore, they don't need me so much that I can't have a single night to myself. I'm not too busy. I light my second, no, third cigarette of the evening and pour myself another glass of wine. Balancing my cigarette between my second and third fingers. Taking a sip of wine. And a drag of my cigarette, holding the smoke in my chest until it burns me. And as I exhale, I'm telling myself to stop being so stupid. Wondering why I'm so unhappy. Because I don't have anything to be unhappy about. I have a brilliant career, and I doubtless have an equally glittering future ahead of me. A nationwide company, head offices at one of London's most prestigious addresses, a million-pound townhouse in Belgravia. A new business contract in the US. And to top it all, I own a successful school... And that's enough. That's more than enough. That's everything I've ever dreamed of and so, so much more. And so what does it matter if I haven't had time to find "the one"?

And I flick the ash from my cigarette, and it still burns as it falls. And I'm taking another drag, tapping my fingers nervously on the railings. A quick, heavy rhythm, keeping rough time with my unsteady heartbeat. And I don't smoke, as a rule. I only smoke when I'm stressed and when I'm tired and when I'm lonely. That's it. Maybe I feel all three of those things right now, blurring together, making me feel ill. And rest my head in my hands. My eyes closed, and I rub them with my hands until little tiny lights pop in front of my vision. Breathing through my nose. Biting my lips until they feel as though they're going to bleed. Because I want to call her. I can't help myself. I want to call her. I reach for my pocket, pulling out my phone. Ignoring all the missed calls from the office, one call from Michael and another four from my PA. I flick onto my phonebook, my hand shaking a fraction as I scroll through names. I tell myself it's the nicotine hit, because I haven't smoked all day. Maybe I haven't smoked in days. I don't know, I can't remember. I take another sip of wine, swallowing it before I can even properly taste it. Then I go back to scrolling. I get to M...N...Her name isn't there. Why don't I even have her number? Haven't I called her before? No, maybe I haven't. I don't know, I can't remember. I don't know. I don't know anymore. Another sip of wine. Another drag of my cigarette.

I could call Michael, or Sian, surely they'd have her number. But that would seem so desperate. I could pretend that I needed to talk about the PRU or the exam or some bloody tiny, insignificant thing. No. That would sound desperate. And I'm not desperate, not yet. I try to breathe normally.

"For god's sake Lorraine, you're bloody straight. Straight."

And I tell myself that old, cutting lie that has sliced though my chest so many times. But this time, something inside me seems to crumple and fall. I wish I was braver.

"Oh god-" I breathe, almost silently. I prop my chin on my fists. And look blankly at the sea.

I just want to talk to her. I just want to sit here, on my cold balcony overlooking the iron grey sea, with my slick black iPhone in my hand, and talk to her. Comfortable distance and a slightly crackly phone line between us. Because the mobile reception up here is awful. So maybe, even better, she could be here with me. In the chair opposite me on the wooden balcony. Smoking up and looking out over the sea. I could make her laugh, I've made her laugh before. She would throw her head back and laugh with me. She'd smoke a cigarette and drink with me. And her eyes are so beautiful. Oh god, her eyes are so beautiful. And she'd be laughing right beside me, and then I could lean across and kiss her. Our lips could just collide and it would be so easy, accidental even-

No, no, no. My head back in my hands. Eyes closed. Blocking it all out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lorraine's POV**

I roll over onto my back and stare at the white ceiling, pulling the suffocating sheet away from my chest so I can breathe. I run my hands roughly through my blonde hair, fingers teasing through knots created as I tossed and turned all night. Because I couldn't sleep. I was running over a thousand tiny situations in my head. Each more unlikely and implausible than the next. I close my eyes and sigh, and reach blindly for my phone, my fingernails scrabbling for a moment on the cold glass of my bedside table before my palm finally met the cool metal case of my phone. I fumble as I unlock it and hold it too close to my eyes, so that it takes an instant for my sleep-blurred vision to focus properly on the screen. The time reads 7:09. I blink. My stomach twists itself into tight knots.

"Shit" I hiss, my breath rushing through my teeth. And I pull the sheets away from my body, scrambling to sit up in bed.

It's the first day back at school after the Easter break. The schoolyard bathed in watery sunlight, but all the heat of the spring day has been filtered away by the low-hanging clouds. And I'm leaning against the ruby red bonnet of my car, answering a call from my PA when I see her. Pulling through the school gates in her dusty little car, and I watch as she glances around the car park. And I watch as she realises that there are no other spaces, save the one squashed beside my red Ferrari. Typical. I sigh, and try not to watch her as she pulls into the space right next to me. I try to concentrate on the buzzing voice of my PA, and not on the scary, swooping feeling inside my chest. And I try to ignore my suddenly hammering heartbeat too. And I flick my hair out of my face as I talk, looking anywhere but at her as she pulls open her car door.

"Can't you rearrange that meeting for Wednesday, it's the start of term and I really can't be going straight down to London-" I say abruptly, and the voice of my PA at the end of the phone burbles something I can barely hear. Because suddenly, all the air seems to have been stolen. Replaced by thick cotton wool. Making it impossible for me to breathe.

Because she's smiling carelessly at me, nodding her head slightly. So I smile back. But I don't think she's noticed, because she's already turning away from me, grabbing her bag from the front seat of her car, and slamming the door.

"Okay...I'll try to rearrange that for next Tuesday then, but you really do need to make sure you look over those reports before, and we need to talk about-" The voice at the end of the phone still buzzes annoyingly around my head. But I'm not listening to her. I'm listening to Nikki's footsteps as she walks away. I watch her too, the way she walks, the way she checks the time on her phone, and then shouts something barely audible towards two boys playing football dangerously close to the glass doors. And she doesn't glance back at me as she hurries towards the few steps leading to the huge double doors into the school. I feel as though something inside me has been thrown away. I gulp. My throat is too dry. I can't breathe, I can't speak. But somehow, I'm still speaking to my PA.

"C-can I call you back?" I cough. The words seem oddly forced, as though I'm having to wrench them from the back of my dry throat. But I'm still attempting to sound brisk, businesslike. I don't listen to my PA's reply before I hang up. And I don't even put my phone back in my pocket, I keep it clutched in my increasingly hot palm.

And suddenly my heels are clicking on the wet tarmac as I follow her. Hurried, trying in vain to catch up with her. And I watch as she slows her pace. "Nikki-?"

She turns to look at me, and I smile. Watching her as she balances her bag on her arm and stuffs her hands into her pockets. And I'm trying my hardest to act natural.

"Hey Lorraine, good holiday?" she asks me, her voice light. Impossibly cool. As though she don't care what my reply might be. As though it doesn't matter that I spend half of last night running over all the things I could say to her in my head, and the other half imagining countless impossible situations.

"Yeah, it was alright, pretty busy. You?" I reply, carefully keeping my tone light, careless. Friendly, and nothing more. Just like her. But she doesn't quite meet my gaze, her eyes flickering from my face, then to the ground, and then up to my face again.

"Umm, yeah, I had a lot of marking and, you know, boring stuff..." Her voice trails away, and her eyes fly back over my face too. Really quickly. Watching me as I bite my bottom lip hard, her eyes fixed on my lips. The silence between us is heavy, laden down with all the things neither of us are saying. I try my hardest to break it. And fix my eyes anywhere but her lips.

"I...I..." I whisper. Blinking quickly. Because somehow I find it hard to focus on her face.

"Look, I better get in school, the kids are always a bit of a handful on the first day of term and I need to...to..." her voice trails away into oblivion. She touches her tongue to her lips, and I unconsciously mimic her. I wonder if she's imagining the way my lips would feel against hers. Because I am.

"Oh, yeah...o-okay..." I murmur. Looking away from her. And she very almost smiles.

"I'll see you later" How does she sound so cool, so chillingly confident? And she turns away from me, pulling her bag higher over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I-I-" I watch her leave, and I'm still stammering as she walks away. But she doesn't look back at me. And I'm glad, because I'm a mess. Everything inside me feels as though it's been carelessly screwed up, thrown away. And I can't even begin to untangle it.

"Lorraine-" At the sound of his voice I visibly jump, Michael's hand on the small of my back. I wonder if he notices. And I pray to god that he doesn't.

"Morning Michael-" I smile at him, running a hand self-consciously through my hair. But my voice sounds quick, businesslike. And now stepping half an inch away from him, until I can no longer feel his gentle touch on my jacket.

"Are you okay, had a good holiday?" He smiles at me, his hand falling back down to his side. His eyes doing that unnerving, flickering thing that they always did. As though they could read every thought in my mind by just half an inch of my face.

"Yeah" I make an effort to smile right back at him, ignoring the bubbling pressure in the pit of my stomach. And together we walk up the sloping tarmac, towards the wide double doors.

Coffee. Strong, black coffee. "Just how I like my men" I would sometimes joke, smiling. Dying inside.

I sit at a deserted desk in the half-empty staffroom, pouring over the reports that the office had emailed that morning. They showed that the school was successful. Not the best, but grades were steadily improving. They should have made me cheerful, proud. But they don't. I can barely even concentrate on them. I drink more coffee, steadily convincing myself that I can't focus because I'm tired.

And the door bangs open. Nikki, of course it's Nikki. Who else? She's carrying a pile of books under one arm, a cup of tea in the other. And suddenly, I'm gathering up my papers, draining the last dregs of my coffee, ready to leave. Because I've rehearsed a hundred thousand possible situations over and over in my mind, but none of them are perfect. And they all scare me stupid. Tying my tongue in knots until I can barely shape an audible sentence.

And I realise that it's probably my turn to be brave, I know that I should be. But I know that I won't be. Not brave enough anyway. I've never been quite brave enough. I keep my eyes fixed down, as I stride for the door. Quickly, but not quick enough-

"Hold on Lorraine, can we talk?" She reaches out towards me as I attempt to brush past her on the way out of the staffroom. Her hand just hovering above the sleeve of my jacket. My heart jumps a full semi-circle. And she didn't even touch me.

"Yeah, hold on." I step closer to her, and flick aimlessly at my phone, pretending to read an urgent message. There is no message, of course. I'm just not entirely sure if I can look straight into her eyes. But I have to slip my phone back into my pocket. And look quickly around the staffroom. Only one other teacher, sitting alone in the far corner, steadily dozing over a thick pile of marking. No-one can hear us. No-one cares. So then I look up at her. "Yeah?"

"I just wondered if..."

She starts to speak, but I cut her off quickly. Before she can even start to talk properly, and she looks impossibly relieved, her shoulders falling a fraction as she sighs. Because suddenly, inexplicably, I want to be in control.

"Nikki, you know...you know you were saying about a drink, the other day...well, not the other day, but before the holidays, you know?" I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. Oh god, what am I even doing? What am I saying? God. There's no way she'll want to go for a drink with me...

She doesn't even look at me, her eyes sweep the staffroom hurriedly, before resting on my face. She nods a fraction, almost smiling again. Surely she's encouraging me to continue stumbling blindly towards asking her out. Just for drinks. Not a date. Don't make it sound like a date. Please, god, Lorraine, don't make it sound like a date.

"Yeah, I know?" She says it as though it's a question, an upwards lilt twisting around her tongue. And maybe it is a question. I don't know.

"We should go for that drink, tonight." I nod, as though I'm sure of knowing what I'm saying. I try to make it sound as though I do.

"Should we?" She seems taken-aback, her eyebrows raising in surprise. Or maybe dismay. My heart hammers double, triple time. I feel as though it has expanded, hopelessly blocking my airway.

"Yeah." I nod again. I wonder if I'm blushing. I feel as though I probably am, blood rushing to my head, making it impossible for me to think clearly.

"I...I...yeah, that'd be great. Here-" she's leaning on the wall, scrawling her number on a scrap of paper. "Call me later?" She's smiling properly now. So I grin back, taking the piece of paper, folding it in half with impossible care. Slipping it into my pocket.

"Yeah, yeah I will. Cheers." My chest feels impossibly light, as though someone has filled my lungs with helium, making me feel lightheaded and dizzy. So relieved, so happy I feel sick.

"See you later then." She's still smiling.

And then she's gone.

And I leave too, waiting until the staffroom door has banged closed again before I pause, my hand hovering over the pocket that holds her number. I feel as though that tiny scrap of paper glows red-hot, burning through my jacket until I'm impossibly aware of its presence, and what it means. Because it means that I am brave. And because it means that she likes me.

_Please review, thank you so much for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone sorry it's been ages since I've written any of this I've been busy doing things. And I'm equally sorry that nothing happens in this chapter bro I wouldn't even bother reading it if I were you. Thank you for the reviews and stuff though. Wow. Don't really know what to say. Thank you3**

**Lorraine**

I sit on the end of my bed, my fingers hovering over the screen of my phone. I scroll down the seemingly endless list of names until I find hers. Because I'd saved her number in my phone earlier, checking that it was exactly the same as the number on the slip of paper too many times. But even then I couldn't bring myself to throw away the carefully folded scrap of paper, instead I'd slipped it back into my pocket. And I can feel it even now, glowing as though it were burning red hot through my jacket. And now I select her name, creating a new message. And I type, too quickly, so quickly I can't possibly over-analyze every single word. And maybe my hands shake a fraction. I shake my head too as I re-read it, every single word making me cringe inside. And so I delete the whole message. And I take even longer to carefully write it again, but my fingers are shaking so much now that my phone has to autocorrect every other word, blurring the meaning of the message. I delete it all anyway. And I type it again, even slower this time. Chewing on my bottom lip, uncertainly licking at my chest. I read it again, eyes flying over the screen until they blur. I read it again. And again, the words suddenly meaningless. And I delete it again, sighing. Running my hands through my hair and staring blankly at the blank screen. Until my hair is a mess. Matching my messed-up mind.

And I type out yet another message. "Hi Nikki, it's me, I just wondered if you still wanted to come out for a drink tonight? I was thinking half 8 at the Red Lion? xx"

Does that make it sound too much like a date? Do I want even want it to sound like a date? No, no, of course I don't. I'm not good at dates, I've never been good at dates because I hate them. I hate their sticky tension and awkward laughter and their fumbling physical contact. Breaking my skin into a cold, shaking sweat. Boys with hot palms holding my hand across the table, or wrapping their hands possessively around my waist as I drink to blur the screaming voices in my head. Screaming that this is all wrong. Or, even worse, some boy walking me home and expecting me to invite him in. Or at very least a drunken kiss on the doorstep. His touch all at once unsure but also hotly confident, cocky. I hate dates. But I could easily, coolly, dress this up as a casual drink between friends, work colleagues even. And all the time in my head, it could be different, so different. And do I want to put kisses on the end, or not? My fingers hover above the backspace key.

"Fuck it-" I whisper as I close my eyes, and press the central button, sending the message. And the second it's sent, I instantly regret it. I put kisses. I left those kisses there, hanging awkwardly in the virtual space between us. Suggesting something, but at the same time, suggesting nothing at all. And suddenly I realise that I didn't put my name. I didn't sign the text. Shit.

And I fall back onto my bed, still clutching my phone to my chest. My hair spilling out around my head, white blonde curls. Impeccably dyed, glossy. Almost the same shade as the crumpled ivory sheets. I close my eyes. And hold my phone tighter. I want to know the instant that she replies. No, I have to know the second she replies. And until then, I close my eyes. Concentrating on my fluttering heartbeat and nervous, unsteady breaths.

**Nikki**

The staffroom is nearly empty. It's late, the kids have all long gone, but I'm still here. One other teacher sitting opposite me, books spread all over the desk. I glance at my phone, yet again. But it's still. And silent. The screen blank, black. I sigh, glancing back to the pile of marking that's stacked up next to my desk. I could be here for hours. And she still hasn't texted me. I look down at the exercise book that I'm supposed to be marking, and make a couple of vague ticks in the margin, my red pen flying over the pale lines of the paper. And I look back over to my phone. The screen is still blank. I rest my elbow on the desk, and prop the side of my head in my hand, my eyes blurring as I read a few more likes of the student's curled, childishly round handwriting. Their spelling is awful, but I don't correct any of it. Their grammar is even worse, so bad that I struggle to grasp the meaning of their work. But I don't correct that either. I look back at my phone. Still no new message. Maybe she isn't going to call me. Not even a text, little pixels on the screen giving me some barely believable excuse. She's busy, she's got a meeting, something's come up at the office, she's suddenly ill, she's double-booked her diary-

My phone buzzes.

I scramble to pick it up. Clicking all the buttons on my phone all at once. Like an excitable, desperate child. And the message is short, but still long enough to send little flickers of hope shooting through my chest.

"Hi Nikki, it's me, I just wondered if you still wanted to come out for a drink tonight? I was thinking half 8 at the Red Lion? xx"

I smile involuntarily, bending my head lower over the book I'm marking to hide my grin. I read it again, my eyes flying over the message. And I reply a fraction too fast. My fingers flying over the screen.

"Yeah, that'd be great, see you then xx"

She put kisses, so I put kisses too. Simple. I don't re-read it, I just send it. Dropping my phone back onto the pile of marking. Smiling to myself.

**Lorraine**

I scroll aimlessly though the messages in my phone, reading occasional ones, the memory of the half forgotten conversations making me almost want to smile. But I'm too nervous, so nervous that the tiny muscles in my face feel oddly frozen. She's not here yet. She's not here yet, and I've already been waiting for nearly quarter of an hour. I click onto the time on my phone, which reads 8:15 and tell myself sharply to stop being so stupid.

"For god's sake get a bloody grip" I tell myself, eyes flickering closed for a fraction of a second. She'll be here. At least, I hope she will. No, no, she'll be here. I slip my phone into my bag and rest my elbows on the bar, clasping my hands together.

The little pub is dark, all heavy polished oak and beams and glistening beer taps, and there's a real coal fire in one corner. Crackling. It's not really my thing, and I'm sure it wouldn't be hers either. But we're in a tiny fishing village on the coast of Scotland, and swanky wine bars with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and suited barmen are few and far between. I could've taken her out of a meal in the town's only restaurant that was neither a chip shop nor a Chinese takeaway, but the white tablecloths scattered with candles and intimately low lighting would definitely feel like a date.

"Wow, and I thought I was going to be early" A slight lilt of laughter in her voice. And a gentle touch on my back, directly between my shoulder blades. Sending my skin into shivers that were hot and cold all at once.

And I jump at the sound of her voice, spinning sharply around to look at her as she sits on the stool beside me. Crossing her legs and grinning at me. I smile right back. My eyes everywhere. Her dark hair and her darker shirt and her smile that lights up the little pub.

"Hey Nikki, can I get you a drink?" Maybe my voice is slightly quieter than normal. Her eyes fly quickly over my face as I speak, unnervingly skating over my eyes and fixing on my lips. Then flicking back up to my eyes. I have to remind myself to breathe.

"I'll have whatever you're having" She shrugs casually, and I smile up at the barman.

"Bottle of house red?" I murmur. And he turns away, opening the bottle for me and sliding it across the bar, with two thick stemmed wine glasses placed beside it on a sticky black tray. She's reaching for her money, but I'm too quick for her. Crisp banknotes on the polished bar.

"I'll pay" her smile slides from her face, and she almost frowns. Serious again in a matter of seconds.

"My treat," I insist, before smiling at the barman. "Keep the change" She sighs and rolls her eyes at me.

"Come on" she says, jerking her head, and suddenly she's standing again, and now I'm standing too. The muscles running down my arm just twitch a fraction, but I don't hold my hand out to her. I want to though. I want to hold out my hand to her, just to see if she'll take it. I don't think she would. I watch her as she leads me over towards a booth in a much darker corner of the pub where no-one can see us. And she holds the tray, carrying it over to the table. She slides onto the leather, and I hover for an instant, still standing. My hands clasped together so I can feel my own palms sweating. And then I slide on to the leather seat opposite to her, wriggling my dress down a fraction. I don't know why. And she's resting her elbows on the dark polished wood of the table, and she pours us both a glass. I watch as the dim lights floating above us dance in the ruby red liquid. Liquid gold. And slides one across towards me. She looks across the tops of our wine glasses at me, her blue eyes piercingly clear. I wish they weren't. I wish she were drunk and I were drunk and that she wasn't quite so hot-

"Cheers" I smile, raising my glass, tilting it towards her a fraction. So that the liquid all tumbles over and over itself. And I drink. I drink to steady my nerves, hoping that if I get drunk enough, my hands will shake because I'm drinking, and not because I'm soul-shatteringly nervous.

"Cheers" She repeats, smiling right back at me. And she drinks too, coolly tipping her head back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow look chapter 4, again sorry it's been ages and it's really short, I've got school-boring-stuff to do and we're in the middle of lambing season and yes look shit excuses. Thank you so much for all the comments and favourites and follows and things, love you**

**Nikki's POV**

A few more glasses of wine. And she's relaxed, laughing. Her hair curling all over her shoulders. Looking away from me, down at the table as if to hide her smile. And she's rolling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, making the liquid spin and twist into a tiny whirlpool.

"If it weren't for you I'd have given up on the PRU months ago just to annoy Michael. And now look at us," she spreads her hands wide in front of her, shrugging.

"Yeah, it's been a roaring success, remember the loaded gun in class, and then our cars-" I begin with a smile, and she giggles, taking another sip of wine. "You look really great by the way," I say, and she's still giggling as she looks at me, confusion flitting through her eyes. The smile quickly dying from her lips as I continue to speak. "Did I not say before?"

"I don't know," a teeny tiny frown creasing between her eyebrows. And then she looks away from me again, glancing back down to her hands. The wine glass has stopped spinning, standing still in her hands as she continues to speak softly. "Cheers Nikki, you too." She murmurs.

I want her to look at me again. I want her to be easily, lazily confident. Cuttingly decisive and abrupt almost to the point of rudeness. Striding down the corridors back at the school, smiling, bag on her arm and hair curling all over her shoulders. Walking as though she owns the place because, I suddenly remember, she does.

* * *

We're in the back of the taxi we're sharing. And she's next to me, tired, tipsy. She's close, leaning back against my chest. Her head on my shoulder, her soft blonde curls falling all down her back, all over my shoulders too. I want to touch her hair, run my fingers through it slowly. Because it looks so achingly soft. But I'm too scared, still not entirely sure if this tonight was a friendly drink between colleagues or something more, something impossibly more. But just as I waver, uncertainly, she starts to speak quietly.

"Thank you for tonight, I've had fun you know Nikki" she props her chin on my shoulder, looking up at me. Her eyes are impossibly blue and blurred with just enough alcohol. They're almost too blue. So piercing, blinding, that for an instant I'm not sure what to say. My head suddenly seems to fill with the rumble of the engine and the faint crackle of the taxi driver's radio, making it nearly impossible for me to think straight. So I just smile at her.

"Me too" I reply softly after a moment's pause. She smiles.

"We should do this again some time you know...I mean, if you want to, I mean..." She starts so coolly and confidently, but in an instant she's stuttering, stammering, slurring. Uncertainly. Her lips shake a fraction. I wish that I could just kiss her. But of course I can't.

"Shh, it's okay," I say quietly to her. "I know what you mean. And you're right, we should. It's been really nice."

"More than nice, Nikki, I-"

As she speaks I'm vaguely aware that the taxi is slowing down, and the lights flashing past us don't seem to burn so brightly. It's bright in the taxi too, and I can't really see the dark landscape flying away from us, but I think we're almost at back at her flat.

"This is your place?" The taxi driver doesn't turn off the engine, but he's spinning around stiffly in his seat, looking at us both with his watery grey eyes. I wonder why he didn't just glance at us through his rear-view mirror.

"Umm, yeah thanks mate." She's glancing from him to me as she hurriedly pulls on her jacket and grabs her handbag. I smile and watch her as she's opening the door, slipping out into the freezing cold night. Running a shaking hand through her blonde hair and looking at me silently as I get out of the taxi too, leaning back against the glossy silver paintwork as I say goodnight. And I know that her blurred eyes are screaming something to me through the hot darkness, but I'm not sure what. I wish I could read her mind, because I want to know if it's okay for me to kiss her goodbye. So instead I sigh softly.

"I'll see you tomorrow" I smile at her.

"Yeah." She nods. Her lips are delicately parted a fraction. And if I were to kiss her, her eyes would flutter closed...I breathe.

"Night Lorraine." I say, and I watch her as she turns away and hugs her jacket tighter around her body, crossing her arms tightly. And after a single, hurried heartbeat, she turns around to look at me again. The engine of the car is still idling and I can hear the taxi driver sigh through his nose as his radio crackles dully in the background. Interference. Even if he's not looking at us, I can feel his sticky presence. I want it to be just me and her.

"In fact, Nikki, I was thinking, do you want to come in for a drink? Just like a coffee or tea or something, I mean," she's stuttering again. Slurring maybe. She must be drunk if she's asking me in, if she were sober she'd never even dream of it. But she sounds so tentative. So painfully fragile that I want to reach out and touch her hand, hold her palm too close to mine. And I pause for a moment. Touching my tongue to my lips. Disconnected thoughts tipping around in my blurred mind. From her blonde hair and delicately blue eyes, to the pile of marking stacked on the kitchen table at home, to her slurred, insecure speech. But she's more than my colleague, she's my boss. Really, she's my boss's boss. And she's still watching me. Her drunken courage already fading from her eyes.

"No, I think I should get back, I've still got some planning to do before tomorrow," I shake my head. Because I can't look her in the eye. My heart suddenly seems to drop like a cold lead weight in my chest, and hers must too. Because I can feel her drop her gaze to the floor as she begins to speak once again.

"Yeah, yeah of course, I'll see you tomorrow-" she's looking away from me, her voice so soft that I barely catch the words.

"Lorraine-" I whisper after her. But maybe she didn't hear me. Maybe she's pretending that she didn't hear me. Because she's turning away so that I can't see her face, walking away from the car, her heels clicking on the concrete as she walks quickly, alone, into the night. I can all too easily imagine the look on her face and things running through her head. And she'll begin to dissect every moment in the past few hours, telling herself over and over that I was just being friendly, professional even, until she really starts to believe it. Oh god, what have I done...

I fall back into the taxi. Little electric blubs above the doors lighting up a close patch of darkness.

"Close the door please, love-" The taxi driver says. He's looking at me in the rear-view mirror now, his watery eyes flickering all over my face. I glance away quickly because I don't want to look at him. Somehow, I don't want him to read the clear-cut disappointment in my eyes.

"Okay-" I reply simply as I reach across and slam the door hard. I don't know why, but maybe something inside me wants her to be able to hear it as she walks away.

"Where to then?" The driver asks me as he pulls away from the kerb, and I quickly reel off my address, my tongue tripping over the familiar words. Because I just want to go home now. I lean back in the cold, scratchy material of the car seat, and try not to think about her. But I somehow can't help it. I close my eyes, but I can almost still see her. Floating in front of my vision. That look in her violently blue eyes as I turned down her tentative offer of one last drink, one last stolen moment together. She'll be torturing herself.

"Jesus" I whisper. I can hear my breath hissing through the dark cab. It seems strangely silent now that I'm alone.

"What're you saying pet?" He's probably looking at me again, watching me. But I keep my eyes closed.

"Stop the car-" I murmur. Saying those three little words before I have time to think about this, because I know that if I think about it I won't dare do it. And now I'm opening my eyes too quickly, so that the world suddenly erupts into brightness.

"What?" he's got no idea what I'm talking about, but he's already slowing down. Glancing at me as I try to force the right words from my throat. Suddenly almost chocking on the urgent words tumbling from my tongue.

"Please, no, no, please, stop the car, go back, go back to her house please." My voice is much stronger now, I sound braver. As though I know what I'm doing.

"Back to her house?" The taxi driver asks me. My head is a mess. But she must be feeling worse. So I try to be brave, and I nod.

"Yeah, please" I reply softly. And he doesn't say anything. He just turns around at the nearest roundabout, and I rest my head on the cold window. Watching my breath turn into condensation and track tiny little rivers down the glass.


	5. Chapter 5

**Nikki's POV**

The car's slowing once again. Pulling up smoothly right outside her door. And I'm hurriedly trying not to plan the things I'm going to say, or precisely how I'm going to act. Because I know it's a waste of time, I'll forget my carefully rehearsed and impossible situation the moment I see her again. If I see her again. She might not answer the door. No, no, don't think like that.

"This is it?" He's gently jerking me out of my thoughts. And smiling at me tiredly as I get out of the cab.

"How much do I owe you?" I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, paying him so quickly I barely look at the notes I pass to him and jump out and slam the door hard. It's barely a few steps to the glass front door to the apartment block, gleaming lift doors and white stone stairs, doors leading off to the ground floor flats. I suddenly realise that I was so eager to get away that I left him with almost a £16 tip. But it doesn't matter now because I'm standing, shivering and cold, at the locked front door and the sleek silver intercom. But that doesn't matter either. Because I suddenly realise that I have no idea which flat is hers. I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling through names so quickly that they all blur into one dark smudge on the screen. And then I find hers. My hands don't shake as I call her.

**Lorraine's POV**

Because I'm perched on a barstool, my head in my hands. My jacket thrown onto the sofa. My heart beating too quickly. As I try to breathe normally. As I tell myself to stop being so, so stupid. As I attempt to bite down against my tears. I don't want to cry. I don't even know why I'm crying. I try to remind myself that I've had a great night. She's lovely, funny, kind. For gods sake...

I look up at the unforgiving glare of the spotlights on the kitchen ceiling, blinking too quickly as I attempt to clear the blur of tears from my eyes. I don't want to smudge my make-up. I don't want to cry over something so tiny, so stupid.

And suddenly, my phone buzzes annoyingly from the middle of the kitchen table, where I'd thrown it a few moments earlier. I wonder vaguely what time it is, and what could be so important that someone is ringing me on my personal number at this time of night. But then I remember that they could just leave a message on the office phone, or ring me back in the morning. So I don't even lean across and look at the brightly illuminated screen. But suddenly the ring seems to be amplified so loudly that I can barely hear my jumbled thoughts over the distracting, repetitive noise. So I just pick it up. I don't even look at the caller id.

I quickly clear my throat, pushing away any traces of hot tears. Trying not to slur. Getting ready to hear the familiar burble of my PA's voice. And after a moment of silence, the person on the other end of the line speaks.

"Hello?" She says. And my heart seems to swell slightly, blocking my airway and completing a complex series of back-flips. And my face cracks into a smile as I hear her voice.

"Oh, hey Nikki!" Suddenly I'm smiling like a teenager again, biting down on my bottom lip and closing my, still slightly damp, eyes. "Listen, thank you for tonight, it was great-" I start to speak, my voice maybe a shade higher than normal. I can feel the tension straining at the back of my throat, and I silently pray to god she can't hear it.

"Look, Lorraine, I'm sorry but," maybe she's not listening to what I'm saying anyway, because she's interrupting me, starting to speak again. Sending my heart spiralling to the ground like a lead balloon. Instantly, a thousand ways she could complete that sentence are bursting into my mind.

_'Look, Lorraine, I'm sorry but I don't think we should go out again.'_

_'Look, Lorraine, I'm sorry but I, like, like you as a friend. And that's it.'_

_'Look, Lorraine, I'm sorry but I've got a boyfriend.'_ Or girlfriend maybe. I don't even know anymore.

But she doesn't say anything like that. Of course she doesn't.

I can hear a quiet, hesitant smile in her voice as she says "But if it's not too late I thought I'd maybe take you up on that coffee?"

I take in a huge, steadying breath of relief. Closing my eyes and smiling from ear to ear.

"Of course, come up now!" I say, giggling, as though it's easy.

* * *

"Wow, your flat is beautiful!" She's laughing, giggling. Obviously impressed.

"Cheers, do you want tea or coffee? Or I've got some wine if you'd prefer?" I suggest quietly, but I'm already leaning over the counter, pulling pair of wine glasses out from the cupboard.

"Wine sounds great," She smiles at me carefully, leaning back against the sofa, running her hands through her hair. And I'm pouring her a glass of red wine, sliding it across the counter towards her. She leans over the back of the sofa, taking it from the counter and taking a sip. I sit next to her on the sofa, cradling my own glass of wine. Maybe I'm sitting too close to her. I don't know because my judgement has been blurred by all the wine I've drunk. But it's okay, because she's drunk too. Drunk enough to be giggling at the things I say as though she's a schoolgirl once again. I wonder how she'd react if I were to hold her hand.

"Does this look out over the sea?" She asks quietly, nursing her glass of red wine and leaning back against the cold glass of the French doors. Nodding to the darkness outside.

"Yeah..." I nod. Taking another sip of wine. Watching her. I can't stop a smile from hovering over my lips, just because she's here with me. Curled beside me on the Italian leather sofa in my brightly lit flat.

"Can we go out there?" She's smiling at me, her eyes glistening. Her bottom lip clutched between her teeth.

"It'll be cold..." I stammer nervously, my throat suddenly too dry.

"Come on." She rolls her eyes, laughing. But she's holding out her hand, so I take it. And I open the wide French doors that lead out onto the balcony, leading her out into the night. And it is cold out here, the water vapour in the air sharp in my lungs and making my skin wriggle into goose-bumps. But I'm drunk enough not to sky above us is strewn with stars, and suddenly it seems as though the sound of the waves has been magnified until it's pressing down upon my ears. I drop her hand and walk forwards, leaning against the railing and looking out at the heaving sea. It's not windy, and so there is no white foam topping the waves, glowing in the starlight. The sea just laps against the rocks, barely breaking. It's just one noisy, writing mass off deep, dark water.

"Wow, what a view" She whistles through her teeth, obviously impressed. Her eyes darting from the inky black sky to the writhing mass of ocean. She's crossing her arms and leaning on the railing beside me. I'm quite conscious of how close she is, because I can almost feel her hot skin, her body-heat clashing against my own. And I like it.

"It's why I chose the flat, I always wanted a sea view, ever since I was a kid." I say, laughing happily. I don't look at her, instead I keep my eyes fixed on the sea. Ignoring the goose-bumps covering my skin.

"It's beautiful," she's talking about the view, but her eyes are fixed on my lips. I blink too quickly.

"Yeah." I murmur, smiling. And she's glancing away, blinking and looking everywhere but at me. And there's tight silence between us for an instant. She takes another sip of wine, and I mimic her. My hands shake.

"Are you okay? You're shivering," I can feel her eyes on me once again, and she touches my bare arm. Her palm cool, soft. I turn to look at her, my eyes flickering from her hand on skin, and up to her eyes again. And she moves her hand away too quickly, and I watch her knuckles go white as she grips tightly onto the railings.

"I'm fine, I'm just a bit drunk" I shrug casually, laughing. Silently wishing that she'd hold my arm again. And, as though she can read my mind, she does. Quickly touching my skin with the back of her hand.

"No, you're cold, here, hold this," she's suddenly serious, passing me her wine glass, and I silently take it. And I'm watching her as she's slipping off her jacket and placing it carefully over my shoulders. Leaving her in just her shirt. Her jacket is slightly too big for me, and it's warm, and it smells of her perfume. My knees feel weak, and my hands shake more than ever. I cling onto the railing.

"Cheers." I say softly, hugging her jacket tighter around my body and flicking my hair out of my face. She's watching me, and I move a fraction closer to her. Shuffling, so I can feel her bodyheat radiating onto my skin. The alcohol in my blood making me suddenly brave. Braver anyway. And I'm looking up at her. God. She's beautiful. My throat is suddenly tight.

And she's looking right back at me. Eyes alight. Something in my chest burns. My lips part, as though I'm about to speak. I don't know what I'm going to say though. What can I say? She smiles, her eyes flickering all over my face as I hesitate.

And then I kiss her. God, I kiss her. My lips shaking a fraction, tentatively. Because I'm numbingly scared. And I'm breathing too quickly. As though I've been running. For an impossibly long, starlit moment she doesn't touch me. Only our lips meet, sending little shocks down my body. And for a second she's still, frozen in hot shock. My lips moving, shaking, but hers are still. Her boiling hot laugh still fading from her lips, because I can taste wine and laughter. And I'm drunk too, of course. Drunk enough to almost block out all the things I've been screaming to myself all my life. One kiss. And then I can feel her breathing as she kisses me back. Tiny, shaking breaths. Burning kisses. She raises her hands, her fingertips hovering either side of my face. As though she's afraid to touch me. I let out a tiny breath.

And suddenly she's so much braver. Cockily confident, almost. Her hands wrapping tightly through my hair, sliding through my curls, pulling me closer to her. And I'm holding the back of her neck, my nails in her skin. Her lips roughly working magic, sending sparks flying through my body. And I think that her eyes are still open, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything really anymore. Because this is wrong. Wrong, wrong, this is all wrong. But how could it ever be wrong when her lips clashing against mine feels so right? She lets me bite her bottom lip. And she's giggling, pulling me close as the waves crash all around us.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow look I'm on chapter 6 already and now I've had to make a folder to organise all the different word documents I've got of this fic and now I feel as though I'm in a committed relationship with it. Scary. I'm sorry if this is shit and I know it's been ages since I've written this and I'm sorry. I've had a very busy week drinking and watching Lip Service. Okay. You know that like I really properly love reviews and stuff and thank you for reading and I'm sorry and okay now I'm rambling, bye.

**Chapter 6**

I roll onto my chest. Running my fingers through my loose, knotted hair. Vaguely noticing that I'm topless, hot sheets all knotted around my even hotter skin. I raise my aching head an inch off the pillow. Blinking my blurring eyes open.

"Oh fucking hell" I whisper. My voice is still slurred. But I don't know if it's the alcohol or thick sleep that's blurring my words.

Because I can still taste the strong alcohol clinging to the roof of my mouth. And something else too. Something that I don't recognise. There are make-up smudges on the pillow. My head hurts. Sending the world spinning scarily away from me. The sheets are blindingly white, and sunlight pours in from the window. I brush the hair roughly away from my face. I need a coffee. And my mind flicks to the packet of tiny white painkillers in the bathroom cabinet. I roll onto my back. Squeezing my eyes up tight, blocking out the glaring sunlight and already fantasising about popping three of those little white pills into my palm. Knocking them easily back with ice cold water. Good god, I feel shocking. What the hell happened last night? I ball up my hands into fists and rub my eyes, trying to dredge my painful brain for some snippets of memory from the previous night. And I can feel my previous day's makeup smudging across the backs of my hands. Oh god. Bloody hell. What was I even doing last night?

I glance around my bedroom. The wooden floorboards strewn with my clothes, heels in a corner. Sunlight casting bright patches on the floor, little pools of light. And there's a black jacket that doesn't belong to me. Scrunched beside my dress on the end of the bed. For a chilling second, I'm scared it belongs to some man, who is now in the shower or making coffee in my kitchen. With heavy hands and hot breath and...I'm topless. Hot sheets crumpled and tight around my body. I feel ill. Sweating, shatteringly ill. How drunk was I?

But no, I realise with a splash of cool relief that it's a woman's jacket, a dark fitted blazer. And my flat is silent.

And then, with a blinding flash of recollection that sends my skin into hot shivers, I remember. Going for a drink with Nikki. That one drink turned into a few. Those few drinks turned into a few more. And I can remember the taxi. I can remember propping my head on her shoulder as we spoke, tipsily slurring my words. Asking her in for a drink as we stood a fraction too closely together in the darkness. Oh god. What else? I can remember going up to my flat alone, gulping down the lump of tears in my throat, because I thought I'd blown it. And then her voice at the end of a crackling telephone line. And her jacket around my shoulders as we stood together on the cold balcony, the soft, slurred lilt of her voice as we spoke. And...and I kissed her.

No. No. What the hell was I thinking? No. I wasn't thinking at all. I shake my head. Blinking blindly up at the white ceiling. The hot sheets are suddenly suffocating me, and I tug them away from my body roughly, impatiently. No. I throw my head back, curls all over the make-up smudged pillow. And I'm arching my back a fraction as I run my now slightly shaky hands again through my hair. I scrunch my eyes closed once again.

My chest rises and falls slowly as I breathe deeply through my nose. Deep, shaking breaths. Biting my lips. Attempting to remember precisely how her lips felt. No. No. I don't want to remember. I was drunk, and she was drunk and it was a mistake. And, the very thought makes me feel shakily ill, I'm sure that I'll have to talk to her about it later. And...and she's a very good kisser.

I didn't ever want it to end. But when she finally pulled away from the kiss, I can remember blushing violently as she murmured my name.

_"Lorraine..." she whispers as my eyes flicker open. And maybe she's breathing a fraction quicker than normal, I think she is, her cheeks slightly flushed. Because I know I am, I can feel my heart racing and hot, shy sweat creeping across my palms. And suddenly I'm stumbling away from her, looking absolutely everywhere apart from into her piercingly blue eyes. Eyes that send little trembling shudders right through me. I don't say a word. And she's quietly suggesting that she should go, murmuring excuses about work under her breath. Softly thanking me for such a great night. Saying she'll let herself out. And all the time I don't say a word. I just look down and nod jerkily, agreeing meekly with every word she says. Still not meeting her gaze. Hot palms sticking to my sides. Running my tongue over my lips, as if I'm trying to precisely save the taste of her lips. And I can feel her gaze drop as she's turning away. I start forwards, almost saying something. Words twisting around my tongue. But I don't know what to say. And suddenly my own silence chokes me. So I turn away too, downing my wine too quickly as I listen to her carefully close the door behind herself._

_Leaving me alone on the balcony, still wrapped in her jacket. It smells of her perfume and my skin. I wrap it tighter around my body, thinking about if I should call her or not. Thinking about her, standing outside and calling a taxi in just her shirt, sleeves rolled up. But I don't want to think about her. I can't. And so I drink and I drink and I drink. Praying to god that the alcohol blacks out everything that's swirling around my head. Jumbled. The promises I made to myself broken, letting everything in my head escape out of the carefully confined shadows._

_And so I have another glass. And another. Until I'm thoroughly, blindingly drunk._

And suddenly my phone buzzes. My eyes flash open. And I quickly, instinctively, pull the sheets back across my exposed chest, tugging them all the way up to my chin. And then realise that whoever is calling won't be able to see me. It rings again, the thick noise filling up my head. And suddenly my hands are frantic, scrambling to pick it up. Because it might be her. No, because it might be important. I cough, attempting to clear my throat. I can still taste alcohol coating my tongue, making my mouth feel vile, making my tongue feel hot and heavy. And I'm blinking at the name flashing on the screen before I accept the call. It's Michael. I swear under my breath, and accept the call.

"Hey?" I realise that I even sound rough. I sound almost as rough as I feel.

"Hey Lorraine, are you okay? You don't sound good." I can hear the frown on his face twisting through his voice.

"Yeah, I just..." For once, I can't think of a comeback, so I just trail off helplessly. But I know he isn't listening to me, because I can hear him talking to Christine in the background. She's laughing, and I can't hear her words, but I can hear the vague burble of her voice. And suddenly, I feel very alone as I listen to him laugh at something she's saying, speaking to her softly, a warm smile in his voice. And I'm drowning, all alone in the expensive hot silk sheets. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, and I see Nikki's face, the way her eyes burned me just before I kissed her. No. No. No. I shake my head.

"What time is it, am I late?" I say out loud, but more to myself than to him. I can hear him pause as he glances at his watch.

"Nearly half-seven, are you sure you're okay?"

"Michael, why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?" I cut him off, sighing down the phone, trying my hardest to clear my head as I rub my eyes again. Sounding a lot more like my normal self. Cuttingly brisk.

"Sorry Lorraine, did I wake you?"He's laughing. I sigh.

"No, I was awake. Why are you calling?" I repeat my question quickly.

"Yes, sorry, I'm calling a staff meeting tonight, and I just wanted to run over a few details just to make sure we're both on the same page..." I pull the sheets away from my body and get out of bed, balancing my phone between my chin and my shoulder as I listen to him speak. My phone burbling meaningless sound into my ear as he talks to me about meetings and budgets and the new teachers he's employed. I let the words all wash over me. I poke about with my foot at the clothes on the bedroom floor, looking vaguely for something to pull on, very aware that the curtains are thrown wide, cool sunlight spilling in, and I'm still topless.

"Okay, that sounds great." I'm smiling nervously. Perched on the side of the bed. A staff meeting. That means all the staff, sitting around the tables in the staff room. I couldn't sit next to Nikki of course, I already know that I'll sit beside Michael. His right-hand woman. For an hour, or maybe even longer. But me and Nikki, we'd be in the room together, and maybe the same tight silence as last night would stretch out between us. Almost tangible, making the other teachers, our colleagues, glance between us too quickly. Eyes flickering backwards and forwards, and then looking down at their notes with a non-committal raise of the eyebrows. They'd exchange glances maybe. And I feel sick just thinking about it.

But maybe I could shrug it all off. Play it cool. Be friendly towards Nikki, laugh with her just like usual. And then at the end of the meeting, I could hang back, pretending to check my phone as she packs away her seemingly-endless pile of marking. I could walk to our cars with her. Suggest we go out for another drink, or dinner maybe. A second date. No. No. Just as friends.

I get up, wondering aimlessly across my room towards the bathroom, crossing my arms across my bare chest and forgetting that I've got my phone propped between my chin and my shoulder. Almost letting it fall to the floor as I shrug, but I catch it just in time. And I'm silently surprised that my reflexes aren't blurred and slowed, because I'm almost sure that I'm still drunk.

"Lorraine, are you listening?" He asks.

"Yeah, I'm just dropping my phone." I reply quickly.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Okay, bye." I'm in a hurry to hang up now. And I carelessly toss my phone across the room and onto the bed, watching it as it falls heavily, creating little waves on the sheets. I sink down against the wall. Head in my hands. Curled up on the floor.

All my life, I've known exactly what I want. I had a plan of how I was going to get it, and I wasn't ever going to stop until I'd got to the top. And now? Now what do I want? I don't know. Or maybe I do, and I'm just too blind and too stupid and too cowardly to reach out and grab it. And as though it were a magnet, my eyes are drawn back to her dark, creased jacket. No. No. No.

But somehow I find myself thinking about all the things I should say to her. The way I should give her jacket back to her, because surely I can't just take it into school, casually passing it to her in the staffroom. People will talk.

I stand up slowly. I need a shower and some painkillers to blur the throbbing in my head. And coffee. And her. The bathroom tiles are impossibly cold on my bare feet and I can feel myself begin to shiver slightly. Clinically clean white tiles. Glistening mirrors.

I look at myself in the mirror. Slight dark bags hanging beneath my eyes. Smudged make-up, rubbed away onto the pillow as I slept. My lipstick all gone. Drank away, lost on bottles and wine glasses. Kissed away maybe. Lost on her lips. My blonde hair loosely curling all down my bare back, framing my face. I pop two painkillers onto my palm, where I can still feel the now-cold sweat forming a thin film on my skin. I look at the girl in the mirror. I place the pills quickly onto the tip of my tongue. And swallow them both quickly, throwing back my head. Gulping, once, twice, three times. Until the pills are gone, my dry throat protesting. I twist the head of the tap, ice cold water spraying all over the porcelain sink. I bend down, and take a mouthful of water. Swallowing it. And I look at the girl in the mirror again. I raise my hands, raking through my hair. My fingernails through my scalp.

"For god's sake Lorraine. Get a grip." I whisper to myself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Nikki's POV**

"Morning everyone" she's smiling as she strides into the staff room. I look up at her sharply, only half listening to what Tom is saying to me. She looks right back at me, one second's eye contact before I have to look away, at least pretending to be interested in Tom's story about what Josh is doing now. But I know she's wearing a tight, knee-length dress. Hot red Louboutin heels. And her hair down. God, she's hot. And she's still speaking, so I can glance back at her. One more stolen look. "So as you all know Michael's called a meeting tonight straight after school..."

"No, this is the first we've heard about it" Tom is frowning, obviously not happy, his eyes flicking towards me. I shrug slightly, to tell him I knew nothing about it either. He looks back to Lorraine. She's leaning back against the worktop, her legs crossed, phone in one hand, stack of papers in the other. I wish we were alone. Because I can suddenly think of a hundred thousand things that I need to say to her. And a hundred thousand more that I should do to her.

"So Michael has left me to break the good news? Great." She smiles sarcastically. "Where is he this morning anyway?" Her eyes are fixed on Christine, but she doesn't wait for her to reply to the question. "Anyway, meeting here straight after school, I expect to see you all, and if you're late Michael will put you in detention." She smiles briefly, before continuing, "Nikki, can I have a word?" She's barely looking at me now; her eyes are fixed on her phone instead. But I can feel Tom looking at me quizzically, one eyebrow raised. But I just nod at her quickly, silently, collecting up my things and pulling my bag onto my shoulder.

"Yeah?" I ask as I stand, but she just jerks her head slightly, indicating me to walk with her. So I do, stuffing my hands casually into my pockets as she leads me out of the staffroom and into the almost deserted corridor beyond. A few students hang around by the lockers, fiddling with their phones. She's silent, as though she left all her cocky confidence somewhere between the crowded staffroom and the quiet corridor, where it's just me and her and stretching silence.

"How're you?" I say, because I have to say something and I'm really not sure where I should start. The moment the words leave my lips, I know that I must sound stupid. Pointless conversation. But at least I'm not talking about the weather.

"Hangover from hell, can you tell?" She frowns. Leaning against the cool metal of the lockers. And she's nervous, I can tell she's silently nervous. As though she's a schoolgirl again, caught smoking outside the science labs.

"No, you look good" I'm being honest, she does look good. No, she looks better than good, she looks great. And I can't help but grin at her. She looks at me, suddenly silently self-conscious, raising one eyebrow and flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulders.

"Shut up, but I think I'm still drunk" She's grinning right back at me, perfect, pale pink lipgloss slicked over her lips. Her eyes flickering all over my face. But I know she's still all-too aware of the students milling around further down the corridor.

"How much did you drink last night?" I laugh at her.

"God, don't talk to me about it. Too much, way too much. I felt like shit this morning." Giggling, she's really giggling now.

"You weren't that drunk..." I trail off helplessly as she finally looks me straight in my eye. Stealing the words from the tip of my tongue. Because she's really, properly beautiful.

"I carried on after you left" She giggles, blushing. Looking down at the floor again and brushing her hair out of her face. I wonder how much of last night she can remember. I wonder if she can remember kissing me, quickly, hotly. Stunning me for a moment into a shocked silence. I just shake my head, trying to forget how she kissed me as she continues to speak, her voice much softer now. "And you left your jacket last night."

"Oh god, did I? I'm sorry, I didn't notice." My voice light, friendly. Because it doesn't really matter that I pulled it off and wrapped it tight around her shaking shoulders. She probably thinks I was being friendly. I know I wasn't.

"I was wearing it" She's still looking down at the floor, blushing a fraction. Of course she was wearing it. As if I could've forgotten. But in that second, I'm almost certain she can remember what happened after I slipped my jacket around her shoulders too. I'm almost sure that she can remember kissing me.

"Oh yeah" I murmur, as though I've only just remembered. She looks at me.

"You can come round later to pick it up later if you want, I didn't like to bring it to work" She suggests it quietly. And I can hear nothing in her voice. No coolness, telling me that she was drunk and now she's soul-shatteringly embarrassed. No confident suggestion of another drink. No second date. Nothing. I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say.

And at that moment the bell rings somewhere above her head, making her jump slightly. But she quickly regains her composure, smiling shyly as teachers start to make their way out of the staffroom and the students start to stream past us, shouting, chatting, swearing. And I wait for the last teacher to pull their bag onto their shoulder and hurry past us, out of the room, shoulders down, resigned to the fact that they had four more days until the weekend. She's still hanging around beside me. Her eyes absolutely everywhere.

"I should get back to the PRU" I say quietly. Her shoulders fall a fraction as she sighs. She looks disappointed. Or is that just my imagination? "We could catch up later if you want?" I suggest casually. I try to be casual anyway. I'm not entirely sure if it works. Because she looks up eagerly. And she nods quickly.

"That'd be great"

"We can talk after the meeting if that's okay with you" I'm leaving, pulling my bag higher onto my shoulder. Turning away.

"Bye Nikki" I can hear something in her voice, but I don't know what it is. I turn around to look at her again. She smiles as we make eye contact.

"See you" I murmur. Feeling her eyes fixed on my back as I walk away. I run one hand through my neat hair. Closing my eyes for a fraction of a second and trying to focus on work. But it's hard.

* * *

I lean back against the dusty bonnet of my car, waiting for her in the carpark as clouds loom low above me. Dark, filled with the black threat of rain. The meeting ended almost twenty minutes ago, but she's still in the staffroom, trapped talking to Michael about budgets and funds and bank accounts. Sending me desperate looks over a bank statement as I packed up my books. I knew she wanted me to wait for her, but I didn't say a word. I just smiled, murmured "I'll see you tomorrow" to her and Michael on my way out. Watching her face fall.

Suddenly my phone rings, and I reach into my pocket, smiling as I see the name lighting up the screen. I accept the call.

"Hey" I cross my arms and look up at the grey sky. I can almost taste the heavy drops of water in the air.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, I just couldn't get away" The reception is terrible but I can still hear that there's something desperate in her voice. I can't help but smile.

And suddenly the wide front doors of the school are pushed open, and she's hurrying out. At first glance she looks perfectly pristine as always, but as I look a bit harder I see that she looks tired, stressed. Much too young to have such a huge responsibility balancing on her shoulders. She doesn't look up at me, her phone still balanced at her ear as she fiddles with papers. Still speaking to me hurriedly. I hang up. I watch her face fall as she takes her phone away from her ear, blinking rapidly and frowning at the screen.

And I can just about hear the confused disappointment in her words from across the silent carpark. "Christ, she cut me off"

"Hey Lorraine" I call, smiling. Her head snaps up, eyes quickly focusing on me as a smile flies across her face.

"Thank you for waiting, shit, I thought I'd missed you." She hurries towards me. Stuffing her papers into her bag.  
"Nah, I wouldn't leave without seeing you" I smile. She's close now, sliding between our cars parked side by side, leaning casually back against her own car. Looking at me.

"Did you have fun in your meeting?"

"Yeah" She murmurs sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Hell, those bank statements must make gripping reading,"

"Don't forget the budget reports," she's giggling as she interrupts me.

"And Audrey's new colour-coded progress checks" I continue sarcastically. She laughs properly now, shaking her head at me.

"Are you okay?" I ask her softly, suddenly serious. I tilt my head down towards her, attempting to catch her eye. She looks away, anywhere but at me.

"You could come over to mine later if you want, to get your jacket? And we could catch up properly then?" She doesn't answer my question, but it's a suggestion. And I nod.

"Yeah, that'd be great." I smile, pulling open my car door and getting in. I slam the door hard and wind down the window. And she's stationary, still leaning back against the bonnet of her Ferrari "What time do you want me?" I ask, glancing up at her and fumbling with my keys in the ignition. I turn them, the tinny little engine of my car beginning to creak into action.

"Whenever you want, I don't have any plans" she's smiling happily.

"What, hot entrepreneur like you and you don't have any plans? Did you make your millions sitting at home and watching...I don't know...general shit on TV?"

"I have plans that I don't mind blowing out" she shrugs, crossing her arms. Playing it cool. Or maybe she's just being friendly. No. No, this is definitely more than just friendly.

"That's nice of you" I smile genuinely.

"I'll see you at seven?" She's turning away, getting into her own car.

"Okay, bye" I pull on my seatbelt and wind up the window. Changing gear, putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking space. Careful not to even brush past her car. Incredibly aware that her car is worth about as much as my flat.

**Lorraine's point of view**

It's nearly quarter past seven. And we're walking together on the thin tarmac path that leads down to the concrete promenade and the huge, impossibly ugly, sea wall. Earlier I retrieved her jacket from where it had been thrown on my bedroom floor, shaking it quickly to try to get rid of the thick creases. It didn't work, but I don't think she noticed. She just thanked me and slipped it on as I suggested quietly that we should walk down to the coast, because there's a great coffee shop right on the sea front.

But the clouds seem to be looming lower and lower now, almost brushing against the turmoil of the rough waves. And my palms feel close and sticky. I wonder if they'd feel different if I were to hold her hand. And the air feels strangely claustrophobic and tight. I breathe, but I feel as though it's much harder than normal. Out here I've got no rose-tinted shade of alcohol to blur her from me. No excuse of being drunk, or even just being professionally friendly. It's just me and her and it kills me.

"What's up?" she asks me carefully.

"Nothing" I say. But I know that my reply is too quick, and my voice is a shade too high.

"Yeah?" She sounds sceptical, but she doesn't push the point.

"It looks like rain," I'm pouting, frowning, looking up at the dark sky. She doesn't reply, instead she just smiles. "What're you grinning at?" I ask her, tipping my head to one side so I can see her better.

"You're talking about the weather. Relax." She replies. I smile.

"I'm sorry" I say as I fold my arms tight across my chest, and watch as she coolly stuffs her hands into her pockets.

"Oh for god's sake, come on Lorraine, what's wrong?" She sounds tired, exasperated. Somehow we've stopped walking, hesitating between the thick concrete strip of a promenade and the last few rows of houses, and flats teetering away above us.

"I'm just not very good at this" I uncross my arms, spreading my hands out wide in front of me. But I'm not sure that she knows what I mean. But to be fair, I'm not entirely sure that I know what I mean either. I just know that I'm impossibly nervous and she's very, very hot. No. God, don't think like that.

"Wow, something you're not good at. I thought you were great at everything." she murmurs softly, grinning again. And she watches as I nervously screw my hands together. And then she quickly, instinctively grabs hold of one of my hands, holding my palm tight and lacing her fingers though mine. I glance down at our entwined hands. So does she. Our eyes meet as she glances back up at me. Her lips part a fraction as she starts to speak, but I quickly squeeze her hand tight against my palm. Until I'm sure she can feel the cool sweat on my skin. But she's silent for a long moment. Her eyes everywhere, covering my body, my face, finally focussing upon my lips. I feel a buzzing in my chest, making me want to smile. But I don't.

"People might see us" I murmur softly. She nods, looking down to her feet now.

"Yeah" She whispers, nodding slowly, moving slightly, trying to detangle her fingers from around my hand. I know that I should let go. But somehow I hold on tighter. "Lorraine?" she whispers. Confusion filling up her voice. I bite down too hard on my bottom lip.

"I don't think I want to go for a coffee anymore" I say quietly. So quietly that she has to take a tiny step towards me to catch my words.

"Oh, that's okay, ummm...shall I go?" She steps away again. And the space between us suddenly seems scarily huge.

"No, no, I didn't mean..." I touch my tongue nervously to my lips and try to think straight. For god's sake. "I didn't mean that. I meant..." I take a breath in. Feeling my body fill with close, heavy air and nervous tension.

And then the storm breaks.

Quickly. One moment a cool silence, as though even the waves have been muted. Their roaring sound dulled by the low clouds.

And the next, thunder rolls through the air all around us. And I feel myself almost instinctively take a step closer to her. And then comes the rain. Pelting down upon us. I feel it crashing against my skin, running through my hair. Almost painfully hard.

"Shit!" I shout, looking at her, and grinning. My shirt suddenly clinging tighter to my body. Hers is already nearly see-through. My heart beating louder than the distant echoes of thunder. She's smiling, rain creating a million tiny rivers over her skin. Squinting her eyes to see through the racing sheets of water. "I bloody told you it was going to rain!" I shout. She shakes her head, raindrops flying from her hair, as she reaches out to take my hand again. My palm slippery with icy rainwater now.

And then she speaks. Almost shouting over the pouring rain and another blast of thunder.

"Do you want to come back to mine?"

I smile.

Tasting cold rainwater. And then her hot lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey look new chapter. Let's not talk about all the fabulous spoilers/the new advert because man I ship these two like embarrassingly hard and I actually cannot wait until Thursday. That's all. (Oh and thank you for the reviews and stuff. Love you.)**

**(Also, don't expect any character development/plotline because I can't. Also, sorry about how short this is.)**

**Chapter 8**

**Lorraine's POV throughout **

Her front door slams. And she's standing right next to me in the wide living room of her flat. Breathing too heavily, because maybe we've been running to get out of the rain. And her flat is warm and I'm leaning back against the wall, throwing my head back and laughing. Out of breath. And she's laughing too. And there are goosebumps covering my body. She reaches out, her palm skating over my bare arm. A brief, little moment of contact that sends my heart running away from me. There's still something inside my head that I'm fighting away, but I'm not even sure what it is anymore. It's an internal battle that I'm losing, and I don't even care. Her smile makes me forget it all.

"You're cold, come on, I'll..." she's turning away from me. And shaking tiny raindrops out of her hair as she moves.

"No. Nikki." I whisper. Reaching out and grabbing her hand, my nails in the back of her hand. She's spinning around and grinning at me again. "Wait" I whisper. Pulling her a fraction closer. And she's looking down and wriggling her hand free from my grasp. I let go too quickly, as though she's burnt me. For a fraction of a second, I'm scared. Scared that I did something wrong. And then she's stepping closer to me. Her hot breath crashing against my wet skin. Because I can still feel the raindrops trickling over my flesh. Down my neck. Over my chest. And she's raising her hands, running them very, very carefully through my hair. Blonde wet hair, her fingernails running through my curls. We're almost nose to nose now. Her eyes flickering too quickly from my eyes to my lips. Dark pupils blurring. And she's inching closer to me still. Much closer. Probably too close. Because I know that right now it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that I shouldn't be doing this, I'm not sure I can stop. I dig my nails into my palms, and I wish that I was in control. But at the same time, I want to lose it all.

And her chest is on my chest, and I'm tipping my head up towards her, her lips barely millimetres away from mine. Her bottom lip brushes against my own. I know that my lips are shaking. But I'm not drunk or even scared right now. I'm just trembling in hot anticipation. Her curling breath, I can feel it, taste it. And then I kiss her. I kiss her this time. Brave suddenly. Softly. Eyes closing. Because I can still taste the rainwater on her lips, slicking over her mouth. And I'm breathing too heavily. One second, one kiss. And oh my god. She pulls away from me, softly tearing her lips away from mine. Leaving my eyes flying open. Heart fluttering like a delicate cadged bird, hopelessly crashing against my rib cage. Silently begging her for more. There's a pause.

"Nikki, please" I whisper. But I don't really know what I'm pleading for. She's so close that I can feel her laugh, almost silently.

"You're going to catch cold" She's giggling. Her hands flying down, fingernails tracing over my cheeks, her palms finally resting on the shoulders of my soaking wet shirt. I look down. She looks away. "Umm...umm, do you want a drink or anything?" She suggests it quietly. It's a question, but she doesn't wait for the answer. "You should have something hot, I've got tea, or coffee, but it's only instant." Her voice is quick, and she's tilting her head back, roughly nodding towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah a coffee would be great. Thank you." I fight to keep my voice confident, casual.

"Okay," and then she's turning away, raising a hand and running it through her wet hair, brushing it out of her face. I watch the muscles in her back move, and the wet material clinging tightly to her skin. I bite at my lips."One shitty instant coffee coming up" I smile as she speaks.

She walks away, towards the kitchen, and I follow her. I sit nervously right at the edge of the sofa. Knees together, hands nervously tangling around each other in my lap. My mouth feels too dry. I touch my tongue to my lips. There are things inside me, moving too fast, throwing confusing shadows around my head. And I can't think straight. Maybe I can't think at all.

"Here-" she passes me a drink.

"Thanks" I murmur, and I cup my hands around it, taking a minute sip. I can feel it scalding my tongue, burning through my body. So hot I can't taste it. I gulp it down. She sits beside me on the sofa, leaning back, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other running through her wet hair. She's self-consciously shaking it back from her face.

"Sorry about the kinda...kinda disastrous evening." She smiles grimly as she speaks. Her eyes fixed on mine, so intently that I have to look away quickly.

"Don't worry, I've had much worse dates" I still don't look at her, but I can hear her gulp too suddenly on her coffee as I speak, spluttering as the scalding hot liquid burns down her throat. I look up at her as she coughs, her eyes watering.

"How could it be worse? We're drinking shitty instant coffee, you're soaking wet, I bet that shirt is either dry-clean only or totally ruined and..."

"You're a great kisser" I say suddenly. And then blush. She raises her eyebrows a fraction, and takes a sip of her tea. And she watches me for a second.

"Thanks" she nods, smiling and looking down. "You too"

I want to wriggle an inch closer to her across the sofa. I want to be able to feel her bodyheat radiating through her thin, wet shirt. I want to place my palm on her cheek, and make her tilt her chin down, so I can kiss her again. I want to be able to, but I can't. Instead I wring my hands together nervously. Taking a sip of my coffee just to have something to do with my hands. She's still watching me over the rim of her mug. I glance up, and for an instant she's looking me straight in the eye. God, her eyes are so blue. Too blue maybe. Icy, chilling, sending tiny tremors down my spine.

"Jesus, you're still shivering," she says, her eyes suddenly flickering all over my face, and she gets up quickly. "I'll find you something to change into, hold on," she takes a final, hurried gulp of her coffee, and leaves her mug on the coffee table.

"No, no don't. You really don't have to." I reply too quickly, placing my own mug next to hers. My hands nervously screwing together again. She laughs.

"I can't let my boss catch pneumonia" she's still smiling.

I lean against the doorframe of her bedroom, tilting my head back to rest it on the glossy wood. Watching her as she rummages through a drawer for something for me to pull on. I can feel hot, quick adrenaline pumping through my body. Quick, sticky tension collecting on my palms. Making me want to do something stupid. Something brave. Something stupidly brave. I open my mouth to speak, but she speaks first.

"Sorry about the mess-" she sighs, looking round as she feels my eyes on her back. I smile.

"It's not messy" I skim my eyes over her room. Double bed, almost impossibly neat white sheets made perfectly. Army style, I suddenly realise. A couple of pairs of shoes strewn over the floorboards. A blazer thrown over one of the bedposts.

"Nikki, come here" I breathe the words softly, and reach out towards her. She turns around.

"What?"She asks. I don't know what else to say. I just watch her hopelessly as she stands and walks slowly towards me. She's frowning a fraction, eyebrows just beginning to press together. And I'm praying to god that she can somehow read my mind and knows how much I like her. But she can't, of course. And I'm consumed by my own nervous silence. She glances away from me, down to her hands, then back up to my face again. Maybe my breathing gets a little bit shallower as I try to ignore all the things running around my head. And she's stepping closer to me again. "For fuck's sake Lorraine" she whispers. Frowning still. And there's something exasperated, almost angry, threading through her voice now. I bite down on my hot fear. Breathe deeply.

And then she kisses me. Kissing me roughly, her hands on my hips, screwing up the soaking fabric of my shirt as she pulls me close. Sending tiny raindrops wringing from the fabric and skating over my skin. Her mouth is open, tongue rough. On my lips, touching my tongue. God. My arms around her neck. I know she can feel how fast my heart is beating. I know that she must know how fast I'm breathing. But I don't care. Because she's a fantastically good kisser. Her hands threading through my hair, nails in the back of my neck. It hurts, but in a good way. I close my eyes and wish that this second never has to end.

But of course it does. And she's tearing her lips away from mine. Yet again. I'm breathing too fast, biting on my lips. Trying my hardest to talk to her. But I can't. Something tight in my throat chocking back my words. She looks at me silently for an instant.

"You okay?" she asks. Touching her tongue to her lips. I lean forwards, and kiss her again. Once. And then she pulls away. "Lorraine?" she murmurs.

I don't know what she wants me to say. And I'm not entirely sure if I can say anything at all, because I feel as though my heart has suddenly swollen too big, blocking my throat. Making it impossible for me to say a single word. And so I just nod my head, and I giggle softly onto her lips. Closing my eyes slowly as she hovers her lips over my own. And I kiss her again. And then, suddenly, quickly, she's stepping towards me and she's pinning my body backwards. My spine digging hard into her bedroom wall. Her hands reaching for the buttons of my shirt, her fingers fumbling, numb. And for a second she's breathing too quickly, tiny frustrated breaths as she struggles to undo the buttons. And finally she's pulling the wet fabric away from my body carefully at first, and then roughly. I just breathe. My eyes squeezed closed. Letting her kiss my neck, my collarbones, my shoulders. Letting it feel good. Because it does. Better than good. A scary, exhilarating high. I hold her neck and pull her lips back up to mine, kissing her straight back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone wow look chapter wow thank you for reviewing and like following and things. Yeah. Love you all. (3 more sleeps till Waterloo Road can you tell I'm excited?)**

**As always, I am kinda astonished at the lack of plot or character development here. If I were you I wouldn't read this. But I'm not you so feel free to carry on reading just don't say I didn't warn you. And I've used some naughty swear words. Boom. **

**Nikki's POV**

She looks achingly, breathtakingly beautiful. Her long, stunningly blonde hair curling all over the pillows. Only a shade darker than the white sheets. She's breathing softly, quietly. Making a single strand of her hair hover, fluttering just over her mouth. Her lips are slightly parted. I think about leaning across and kissing her. But I don't dare. Vaguely, I wonder what time it is, and if we should be getting ready for work. But I don't have the heart to wake her. I lean over her, propping myself up on one hand and grabbing my phone from the table on the other side of the bed. I can feel her breath just brushing against my chest for a fraction of a second. And then I fall back into bed beside her. I check the time. Nearly half seven. I throw my phone down to the foot of the bed, and close my eyes again. Maybe I could go back to sleep. Call in sick to work. Stay here all day, too scared to hold her as she sleeps, just watching her instead. Feeling her breathing. Normally, I'd go out for a run. But I don't like to let her wake up all alone, just her and the cold, empty space beside her. I sigh. And open my eyes. Softly, almost silently, she murmurs something inaudible. Her eyes flickering open. Focusing on me. Under the covers, I reach out and I place my cool palm on the hot, impossibly soft skin of her back. I can feel the gradual curve of her spine, the soft slope of her ribs. I move my fingers slightly, gently stroking her skin.

"Mornin'" she whispers. Blinking at me. I can hear the thick sleep in her voice, wrapping through her words. Her eyes look bluer than usual. Or maybe that's just because we're almost nose-to-nose, and they're blurred with sleep.

"Did I wake you?" I whisper in reply. Quickly moving my hand away from her back, and running it through my hair instead, brushing it away from my eyes.

"It's okay, you didn't." She murmurs as she rolls onto her back. All collarbones and soft blonde curls falling over her chest. Lashes fluttering delicately as she blinks rapidly up at the ceiling. Raising her hand and rubbing her eyes again. She sighs, and I watch her ribs as they rise and fall. She closes her eyes again. "Oh my god" she whispers. And suddenly her nails are scrabbling at the sheets. Quickly pulling them up, over her body. Almost instinctively, I wriggle a fraction further away from her. Onto where the sheets are cool and cling to my skin.

"Are you okay?" I whisper. She runs her hand through her hair. Her eyes fly open again, and she twists her head slightly towards me. Her blue eyes flickering over my face too quickly, still blurred and confused by sleep.

"I'm okay. It's just, this is a little...weird..." She murmurs.

"Weird?" I reply softly. Suddenly nervous. Because last night was a lot of things, but I wouldn't describe it as weird. And I'm scared about what she's going to say. So I touch my tongue self-consciously to my lips. And she mimics me, her eyes flickering everywhere. I just watch her, and wait with bated breath for her to reply. She takes her time, screwing up her forehead and looking at me carefully.

"I don't sleep with people. Like...like this." Under the sheets, her hand flies between the two of us. Not quite colliding with my skin. I want to reach out and touch her, hold her hand at least. There's a moment of silence before I reply. And she wraps the sheets tighter around her body.

"What do you mean?" I ask her softly. And I finally reach across and hold her shaking hand. My hand pressed tight against her palm. Laying them together on top of the sheets, creating little white tidal waves over the thin fabric. She almost smiles, just pressing into her cheeks.

"I don't mean like...sex. I just, I just don't do this." She's not looking at me anymore. She's looking at our hands instead.

"What do you mean Lorraine?" I whisper gently to her. As though I'm coaxing a small child.

"Like this. I don't do this, sleeping with someone. I don't like it. Not all night. And being here when they've woken up. I don't do it." She's still looking down at our hands, twisted together on top of the sheets.

"I feel honoured" I smile and I lean towards her. Propping myself up on my elbow. She kisses me, smiling confidently suddenly. Her eyes wide open as her lips crash against my own. Her tongue gentle, soft. Teasing my lips apart and deepening the kiss. I want to touch her again, but our hands are still wrapped tightly together. And she wriggles a fraction closer to me. I can feel her hot body heat and her impossibly soft skin. Making my heart beat faster. And I pull away from her too quickly. Looking down at her.

"Thank you" she whispers. And she's still smiling.

"What for?" I reply. I kiss her bottom lip. Making her grin wider. And she's wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me down closer towards her.

"You didn't do a runner this morning" she whispers, serious for a moment. And then she laughs, grinning widely. And she's giggling softly as she falls back down against the sheets, her hair down and curling everywhere, falling all over the pillows. And I lean over her, kissing her bottom lip again, one last time. She's laughing, saying things I can't hear against my lips.

"We're going to be late for work" I whisper quietly. Brushing her hair out of her face.

"Oh my god" she moans softly, sighing and pulling the sheets up almost over her head, like a temperamental child. "Don't talk to me about it, I don't want to think about it."

"We should get up."

"I should go home shouldn't I?" She's lying on her back, running both her hands through her hair, chewing her lips. Making them turn white, bloodless. And then bright red as her hot blood rushes back to them. I want to kiss her again.

"Maybe, yeah" I murmur, rolling over onto my back. Away from her. Space between us suddenly cold. I look up at the ceiling, and wonder if my eyes are focussing on the same place as hers.

"I should get home" she sighs. "People will talk if we turn up together, won't they?" I shrug. And look at her in silence for a moment.

"People will talk" I repeat her exact words, my voice a shade quieter. "Yeah."

"That's just what people do" she whispers. I twist my head to look at her. My eyes flicker over her face.

"So you don't mind people knowing about this?" I raise my eyebrows. Trying to keep a note of scepticism out of my voice. She looks away from me.

"I never said that" she murmurs quickly. I nod slowly. Rolling onto my chest. Kissing her shoulder, making her wriggle happily.

"Uh-huh?" I murmur onto her skin. She touches the bottom of my chin, tilting my gaze up to meet hers.

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you?" I hate the flickering insecurity in her voice. Her usual, confident outer shell now long gone. Left behind, discarded like her hot red Louboutins on my bedroom floor. I kiss her shoulder again. Beginning to memorise the tiny, fair freckles splattered on her skin. As my lips skate over them.

"Nikki?" She whispers again. Nervously. I smile.

"Do...I...get...to...be...your...dirty...little... secret?" In-between each word, I drop another kiss onto her skin. And finally, I rest my chin on her shoulder, and I look up at her, grinning. She looks straight up at the ceiling. Maybe her breathing is a fraction shallower now. I don't know.

"Just promise you'll not tell anyone?"

"Okay, yeah. I promise." I reply quickly. Casually, as though it doesn't matter. Last night was great, but that doesn't mean it'll happen again.

"Thanks" she murmurs. And looks down at me. Almost smiling again. She holds my hand, really, really tight.

"I'd hardly go shouting about this at work anyway, like 'oh look at me, sleeping with my boss.' I'm not some teenage boy" I shrug. Like it doesn't matter.

"I'd noticed" she smiles at me. Nodding her head a fraction. Kissing me again. I let her kiss me once, and then I wriggle away from her. I want to ask her things. But I already know that she'll shut down. Clam up. Either refuse or suddenly become incapable of talking to me. Struggling to string two words together, when normally she can be so cuttingly abrupt, even blunt, maybe. Speaking her mind with a cocky shrug and a flick of her platinum blonde hair. But she doesn't. She tugs the sheets a fraction higher, covering her chest. And tilts her head as she watches me. Watching me watching her.

"We should get up." I run my hand along her thigh gently, and then move away. I hear her take a sharp breath in, as though she's going to speak. I hesitate. But she doesn't say a single word. So I continue. "We're going to be late for work" She rolls her eyes as I speak. I roll away from her, getting out of bed and slowly beginning to get dressed. She doesn't move, I can feel her eyes on my back as I dress. "Come on, get up" I sigh, as I button up my shirt, twisting around to look at her. She pouts, cutely wrinkling up her nose and frowning slightly.

"We could call in sick?" She suggests.

I just laugh, leaning across the bed, running one hand through her knotted, curling hair. Brushing it away from her face so I can kiss her forehead. Suddenly, she's holding onto the collar of my shirt, pulling me down to kiss her properly. Her lips hot and too quick against my own. Her eyes squeezing closed. "Stay, oh god Nikki, we could just stay here all day" she murmurs quickly onto my lips. My eyes are wide open, skating over her face as she kisses me again. I sit beside her, cross-legged. She wriggles towards me, still loosely clutching the hot sheets across her chest. Looking up at me appealingly.

"You have no idea how tempting that is" I whisper, making her face crack into a huge smile. I hate to bring her crashing down like this. "But I've got to go to work."

The smile slides from her face. "Yeah, yeah you're right" she's looking away from me. And I touch her chin, tilting her face back towards mine. Her eyes are too wide, flickering over my face.

"Here, I'll make you a coffee" I smile. Pulling on some socks. Leaving the room. And then in the living room I hesitate. Screwing my hands together. And then I poke my head back around the door. "How do you want your coffee?" She still hasn't moved, she's laying in bed. Her eyes screwed tightly closed. "Lorraine?"

"Oh...umm, black, no sugar please babe"

"Okay" I nod, and I hover for another second, watching her. Babe. She said babe. What does that mean? I wish I could just ask her. Get it out, instead of letting it settle like a dead weight in my chest. Worry, and hot confusion. Because I have no idea where I stand. But she just rubs her eyes and doesn't open them. And she doesn't say anything either. So I leave her. Filling the kettle, boiling it. Flicking through the morning post as the water begins to bubble noisily. I lean against the worktop and rip open three letters. Two bills and a bank statement. I sigh. And I leave them all, discarded on the counter top. Making coffee for her.

She walks in, wearing the same clothes as the day before. Her shirt creased, still slightly damp. Her hair ruffled, holding her heels in one hand. And still somehow manages to look as though she's ready to take the world by its balls and have it begging for mercy. "You look great" I smile, genuinely. Because she does look great. Better than great. Her hair curling loosely, her shirt clinging to her skin, her face completely free of make-up. Dark eyelashes almost impossibly long, cheeks blushing lightly, lips soft. She just rolls her eyes.

"I need to get back and get changed. People really, really, really will talk if I turn up in the same clothes as yesterday." She's putting on her heels. I slide a coffee across the worktop and she takes it gratefully. Cradling it in her palms and taking a long sip. Wobbling as she slips on her other shoe. Another gulp of coffee. She's grinning, brushing her hair out of her face. Another gulp of coffee.

"You do look great" I insist.

"Shut up. I mean, for god's sake, I look a mess. What's the time?" she's pouting. Reaching for her phone, but I beat her to it, pulling my phone from my pocket.

"Eight. Well, ten past eight."

"Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit" she's swearing quickly. Absentmindedly letting the curses drip from her tongue. "I'm going to be late-"

"Do you want a lift home?" I ask her, grabbing my keys from the worktop and spinning them around on my finger. Jingling them persuasively, and I tilt my head to one side, and I smile. Oh my god. She just bites down on her bottom lip, and smiles right back.

"You, Nikki Boston, you are an absolute angel. Are you sure?"

"Of course, let me grab my books and stuff, and I can drop you back at yours on my way to work?" I suggest.

"Yes. Thank you, so, so much." She's grinning. Pulling on her jacket. I stuff my keys into my pocket and grab my jacket from the back of the sofa. Collecting up an armful of books, sliding them all into my bag and pulling it onto my shoulder, frowning as I glance around my flat for my diary. Grabbing it, holding it between my teeth as I grab my keys again. And she's holding her hand out to me, leading me to the door. She pulls it open, and waits as I lock it. Her fingers are somehow all tangled around my hand. We're suddenly standing alone in the stairwell. And I can feel her palm get slightly hotter. I squeeze her hand for a fraction of a second, and then drop it. Her smile drops slightly too. And I pretend that I don't notice.

"Come on, we'll be late." I shrug, turning away from her. She follows me, her heels clicking on the floor.

**Lorraine's POV**

I slam my car door. Back in my own, private oasis of luxury Italian leather and chrome dials. Late for work. But I don't really care. After all, it is my school. And I chuck my handbag into the passenger seat. Raking my fingers through my hair. Turning off my phone. Very, very aware that my hair isn't quite as perfectly, immaculately curled as it normally is. My head is all screwed up, just like my hair. I think my hands might be shaking a fraction as I fumble with my keys. And I start the engine, turning the ignition. Engine suddenly tumbling, throbbing. I pull out of the driveway. My hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, my knuckles white. Breathing too quickly. Oh my god. I speed up, trying to clear my head. Because it's full of her. Her laugh and her smile and her kisses colliding with my skin. God. Part of me wants to cry, fall apart like a stack of cards. But part of me is glowing, hot and brightly golden. Right in the centre of my chest. I make a conscious effort to slow my breathing, and the car speeds up even faster. Almost scarily fast. The grey sea flashing past me, stone fishing cottages and teetering blocks of flats. But I don't brake, I don't take my high-heeled foot off the accelerator. Because I am brave.

"Get a grip. Get a bloody, fucking grip" I whisper to myself. Over and over. Changing gear. Frustrated with my own stammering heartbeat. And finally I slow down. Shaking my head, turning on the radio. Some stupid love song blasts through the speakers for a fraction of a second before I turn it off again.

I don't know why I feel like this. I don't want to feel like this. But I can't help it. Absolutely everything inside me is coming unravelled. Twisted up and tangled. And the worst thing is, when I'm with her, I don't particularly even care.


	10. Chapter 10

**Firstly, this had over 600 hits last night and I'd like to apologise profusely to you all about how shit this is. And can we EVEN TALK ABOUT LAST NIGHT? The all-consuming sexual tension was almost painful, and sad Lorraine had some serious fucking sass/character development going on and that kiss omfg. I can't.**

**Also I haven't proof-read this at all. I don't plan this either, it just happens, so feel free to leave me criticisms/suggestions for plots/whatever.**

**Finally, I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to carry on writing this now it's back on the TV? I'm happy to do whatever you want and if yous still want me to write this I'm totally down for that, but equally I don't want to be like annoying or anything. Yeah.**

** Here's a new chapter. Sorry if it's shit.**

**Chapter 10**

"Morning everyone" I smile, sweeping into the staffroom. Maybe I'm a little bit late. Maybe my hair is a fraction dishevelled and my smile is a little too wide. Nikki looks up at me sharply as I enter the room, but she glances away too quickly as I begin to speak. Suddenly, I feel shakily scared. My throat a little dry. It was a one night thing. I've told myself that, over and over on the solitary drive into work. Like the others, she was a one night thing. She won't want anything to do with me now. We can be friends, and strictly nothing more. Because I don't know what else I can do. Because I can't remember the last time I slept with anyone when I was sober. I can only remember dark drunken nights with men, and their sweat that stank of alcohol. Closing my eyes and willing myself to let it feel good. And it never quite worked. But right now, I can't even tell myself that I was drunk. Because I wasn't. I was stone cold sober when I slept with her. Her. I slept with a woman, stone cold sober, and god, I loved every single second. And that scares me. That scares me stupid. It scares me brave.

"So Nikki, did you have time to look at those reports?" Tom leans towards her. And I notice how closely they're sitting. Her knees together, her chin down, head tilted towards him as she listens to him speak. Something hot flutters through my chest. I don't know what it is. But it burns me. I cough slightly as she replies. Maybe I want to attract her attention. She doesn't look up instantly.

"Umm, no I'm sorry, I was busy last night." She's shrugging. And then her eyes quickly flick up towards me. I know that she sees me staring at her. And I think that I imagine a shadow of a smile hovering just over her lips. I look away.

I'm her boss. I pay her wages.

No. No, you're friends. You're just friends.

No. Maybe I should ask her out again tonight.

Five minutes to three. And I can't take it any longer. I feel as though something inside me is lowly cracking under the tight pressure and worry that has settled like a huge weight within my chest. Cracking my ribs. Making it impossible for me to concentrate, and even harder for me to breathe. I've barely noticed Michael shooting confused, concerned looks at me all day. Or Tom's mumbles as I burst into the staffroom at lunchtime, looking for Nikki.

But now, I'm striding down the corridor, my heels too quick on the linoleum floor as I hurry down the narrow corridor towards the dark blue door to the PRU. I self-consciously tuck my hair back behind my ears, tossing it over my shoulders, and I stride through the door. Quickly, confidently. My back straight, my shoulders down, my head held maybe a fraction too high. I push open the door. Several heads turn to look at me. Nikki looks up maybe a bit too quickly. And she's smiling.

"Yes?" She says. Her voice light. Cool. Professional. Maybe even friendly. But nothing more. For a second, my confidence wavers.

"Hey, Nik-...I mean, Miss Boston. Could I have a word please?"

And the bell goes. Thank god. The classroom suddenly erupts in a hot flurry of movement. Kids stuffing books into bags, throwing screwed up paper across the room. And her eyes are down, shuffling through the stack of papers she's holding. And she's quickly moving between the tables, collecting up textbooks and pushing in chairs. She still doesn't look at me, and I hesitate by the door. All the kids are roughly pushing through the door, out into the wide schoolyard beyond. But they all keep their distance from me, not one of them even brushes past me, shoulder to shoulder. I walk across the suddenly silent, gapingly empty room, sitting on her desk chair and swivelling around slightly. And I'm nervous. God. I'm clutching my hands together. And she's still not looking at me. I clear my throat nervously, and she glances up. Looking straight at me.

"You okay?"

"Nikki-" I start to speak, but she's not looking at me. Her eyes are flickering towards the wide windows that look out over the schoolyard. Suddenly, I feel shy. Exposed. Less than twelve hours earlier I was clutching her sheets to cover my chest. God. My throat is dry as I repeat her name, softly now. "Nikki?"

"Sorry Lorraine" She looks at me. And smiles. And then she crosses the room. Quickly, easily. She's confident. Playful maybe. One hand stuffed into her pocket, shoulders back. And she opens the door. "Shall we go to my office Miss Donegan?" She suggests it with a slight tilt of her head. I get up, and I follow her.

Tom isn't in their office. I think she knew that we'd be alone when she invited me in there. And I like it. Just me and her. I'm sitting in her chair.

"Hey" She moves a stack of papers quickly to one side and sits beside me. Perching on the edge of her desk, tucking her dark hair back behind her ears and then crossing her arms across her chest. Pulling her dark blazer tight around her body. And she smiles at me, her eyes gentle, soft. I think that she knows that I'm nervous. And I think that maybe she's a little bit nervous too. And I smile right back at her.

"Hey" I look at her nervously, and I touch my tongue to my lips. And I'm flicking my hair out of my eyes, and blinking up at her. She smiles wider, biting down at her lips and tapping her very fingertips on the edge of the table.

"You okay?" She murmurs. Her voice soft, gentle. I lean back in my seat, flexing my shoulders. Resting my head in my hands and frowning.

"Yeah" I grin right back.

"You look tired" I can hear something that might be tight concern lapping at the back of her throat. I shrug. I look up at her. Her hand twitches slightly, as though she were going to reach out towards me. But maybe she stops herself at the very last moment.

"Cheers" I sigh, smiling sarcastically. "It's been a long day. And last night, I...I mean, we...we didn't sleep much" I'm smiling properly now, running my hand through my hair. She reaches out too, and she brushes my hair back from away from my face. Running her fingers gently through my curls. I know that I should pull away from her. Because someone might come in. Someone might see. But she moves instead, and she drops her hand back to her side, and smiles grimly at me. Eyes flickering all over my body. And then I grin. "And that's your fault." I raise my eyebrows. She bites her lips. Shaking her head.

"Sorry" she murmurs, feigning innocence. I manage to smile for almost another half a heartbeat, and then I allow it to slide from my face.

"You're doing my head in." I sigh. She looks at me for a moment in silent confusion.

"What do you mean?" She's suddenly serious too.

"You know what I mean"

"I don't"

"I slept with you. In case you hadn't noticed, we slept together."

"Yeah" her voice is soft, coaxing. Tangled with hot, worried confusion. But she tries her damn hardest not to let it show.

"And is that it, I mean, I totally understand if it was like...like a one-time thing, for you." I nod. I don't look at her. I fix my eyes at a point slightly above her left shoulder.

Ready to feel as though everything inside me has been punched away. Ready to build up a smiling facade and thank her for...everything. I get ready to be friendly. Cool. Murmur something about a meeting and hurry away. Whilst everything inside me was crumbling away like confetti in the wind.

And I wasn't expecting her reply. Two tiny little words.

"It wasn't."

"What?"

"It wasn't like that. Not for me." And she's looking scared. Shy. Shocked maybe. Her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide open, fixed on mine. And oh my god, I want to kiss her.

"Oh" I breathe. And I reach out, placing my palm on top of her hand. She glances down, and then holds my hand properly. Fingers entwined together.

"Lorraine?"

"Well, in that case Nikki, I was wondering if...we could go out tonight, if you wanted, of course...?" I suggest it quietly. And her smile widens.

"Really?"

"Yeah. If that's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah of course, that'd be great." She looks happy. She's really smiling now.

"We never went for that coffee last night. We could go there tonight if you wanted. Straight after work, if that's okay with you?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, watching her as her eyes fly over my face. And they rest on my lips. And for a single chilling moment, I think that she could be about to kiss me. Kiss me again. And that makes me feel hot, scared sweat suddenly leaping to my palms. Her lips part, shaking a fraction. I tilt my head upwards. But she blinks. And glances away.

"Nikki?" I whisper.

"Yeah, yeah, coffee. That'd be great." She nods quickly. "What time are you finishing work tonight?" she speaks quickly, keenly, as though she has to force the words from her mouth before she loses her nerve.

"I've got a meeting at...umm..." I glance away from her. My breaths quick, short. Looking down at my phone, but I know that my meeting isn't scheduled on the calendar on there. And I breathe quickly still, my fingers shaking as they fly over the screen. "I think that it ends at half six, babe." I say. And the last word just slips from my tongue before I really have time to register what I've said. And I blush violently. She looks up at me, sharply. And then she smiles.

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be great!" She grins, keenly. She leans forwards a fraction, wriggling slightly closer towards me across the desk. She looks at me. Her eyes everywhere, all over me. For a second, I feel hot friction running down the back of my spine. And I like it, I really liked it. And I know that I really, really like her too. So I lean forwards a fraction. Perching on the very edge of my seat, crossing my legs. And my skirt moves half an inch further up my thigh.

"We could meet here, in your office afterwards, if you want?" I suggest, quietly. She tilts her head to one side. And she doesn't say a word. She just jerks her head slightly. And leans forwards. Her hands wrapping through my hair. Her short nails in my scalp. Running her fingers carefully through my curls. Her eyes wide open, holding my gaze for a fraction too long. Until my hands shake a fraction as I hold the back of her neck. Tight. I feel her chest rise as she takes a long breath in. And I close my eyes.

And then she kisses me. Hotly, quickly. Her lips caressing my own, gently, carefully. And her breaths are soft, quick. My hand tightening on the back of her neck. As I stand, wobbling slightly on my high heels. And I pull her closer to me, holding onto her tighter as I pull her right onto the edge of the desk. Her lips everywhere. Her tongue running over my bottom lip. Her teeth. My lips. And I'm teasing her lips apart now, as her hands circle around my waist. And the kiss lasts for a heartbeat. A second. A whole lifetime. Or maybe longer. And she's pulling away from me really quickly, roughly almost. My eyes fly open. And she's dropping her hands to her sides.

"Okay?" She whispers. And then she's repeating the word. Her eyes holding mine, too tightly. Over and over. "Okay? Lorraine, are you okay? Okay?" And I break eye contact. Looking down.

"I can't. I can't kiss you here. Someone might see us." I say quickly. And she's nodding, quickly. Biting down on her lip.

"I understand" she whispers. Does she? Does she really? Does she know how my throat ties itself in knots when I see her. Or how she makes me want to kiss her, right now. Hold her hand. Hold her hand as we sleep. Sheets and her hot skin. Does she understand that I want to wake up beside her tomorrow morning? Nothing but daylight and all the things we can't say between us. Maybe she does understand. Maybe she doesn't. I don't know.


	11. Chapter 11

**God knows why but I've written another chapter. And thank you SO MUCH for all the lovely review-y comment-y things, it means like loads that some people actually read the shit I write.**

**Also, do any of you have any strong opinions on sex scenes? It'd be awesome if you could let me know if you think one would ruin this fic or I'm not good enough to write a half-decent one or if it would scar you for life. Cos I don't wanna like offend anyone. (God only knows why you're reading this if you're going to be offended by a bit of sex, but whatever)**

**Okay love you bye.**

**Nikki's POV**

I should probably sit next to her, and hold her hand. But I don't, of course I don't. I just sit opposite her as I silently wish that I could read her mind. She's drumming her fingers quickly on the table, nails tapping dully on the thick wood as she looks blankly out of the window, out towards the windswept bay. I sit opposite her. She's stressed, worried. I can tell.

"It's just, you know, she's had issues in the past, god, maybe she's still got issues, I don't know" she's talking about Christine. Her voice quick. She could be mistaken for being casual, careless almost. But I know she's stressed. I can see it in her face, the way her eyes flicker across my face too quickly. Whatever her meeting was about, I know it didn't exactly go well.

"And you don't think she's a good influence on Michael?"

"No, I just worry about her making him look bad."

"To be fair, he isn't exactly squeaky-clean either, remember all that stuff with his dad."

"But-"

"What was he arrested for? Murder or manslaughter? Whichever, that looks a just little worse than dating an ex-alcoholic."

"And she hates me"

"No she doesn't" I frown earnestly. "You worry about that damn school too much, don't you Lorraine?"

"Yeah, oh god I worry about it constantly" she replies quickly. "All the time, it's all I've got really, you know?"

"Your business-"

"Practically runs itself these days. So many people work for me, I mean, I still have meetings and management things to do, but that's all the boring stuff. Accountants and bank transfers and...and it makes my head hurt just thinking about it." She's propping her head in her hands. And again, I think about reaching out and holding her hand across the table, but I don't. Of course I don't. Because we're in public and I know that she wouldn't like it. She would like me to hold her hand, of course, but she would hate for anyone to see us. So I don't.

"It's all just a headache?"

"God, yeah. The school is a headache too, but at least the school is worth it. I get to see all the kid's happy little faces, inspired to learn. I mean, look at bloody Barry Barry.." she's smiling sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, no." I frown. "It does change their lives, I mean, look at Scout, I mean, Jodie Allen-"

"That was all down to you." Her voice soft suddenly. She's tilting her chin down, drinking her coffee. I watch her.

"She couldn't have done it without the school." I reply. She smiles. "And the school wouldn't be there if it wasn't for you."

"She couldn't have done it without you" she insists.

"Me and you and the school then, whatever" I shrug. "What a winning combination." She smiles as I speak.

"You're right, I do worry about the school too much. It's like I don't have enough to worry about, so I stress about the school instead. It's my baby" She's shaking her head, curls falling all over her face. She's shuffling in her seat too, pulling her skirt half an inch further down her thigh. I reach under the table, and hold her hand. Just for a fraction of a second. She smiles, and I wait until I can see her smile press into her cheeks before I drop her hand. And the smile slides off her face. And now she reaches towards me, brushing her palm across my knee.

"We could, we could go back to mine, if...if you wanted?" She suggests it quietly, slowly. As though she's being sure to keep her voice entirely neutral, not suggesting anything. Her face tells a different story, as her eyes flicker over my lips, and she unconsciously grasps her bottom lip between her perfect teeth. I can't help but smile.

"Okay" I nod. And then she smiles properly. Confident, happy. Sending my heart racing. She gets up, and flexes her arm slightly, as though she were going to reach out and hold my hand. She doesn't though, of course she doesn't. I can feel the tension between us, clinging between our bodies as we leave the coffee shop. She's leading the way, and I follow her. Watching the way she walks, the way her blond curls tumble all over her shoulders. Her head high, confident. Her bag thrown over one shoulder, six inch heels and a tight skirt. God.

And we're walking slowly along the promenade. My hands in my pockets, her arms folded across her chest. She's laughing at something I said, but I can already barely remember what it was. Because she's so beautiful that she forces all other thought from my mind.

"I'd hold your hand, you know, if I could" I look down at her as she speaks.

"Oh" I murmur. I look at the sea for almost a fraction of a second before my eyes are somehow magnetically drawn back to her. It's almost as though I can't help but look at her. Maybe I can't help it. God.

"I really like you Nikki" She grins, nodding slightly. I nod right back.

"I really like you too" And she already knows it, of course she does.

All her hair is flying around her face, dancing into messy curls in the cool spring breeze, laced with bitter sea salt. And her eyes are precisely the same shade as the sea. If I were to kiss her right now, her lips would taste of salt and vanilla lipgloss and the coffee we'd drunk, I know they would. I can imagine exactly how they'd taste, how the softness of her lips and her skin would be marred by rough salt. Friction. Fiction in my head, because I won't kiss her. Not here. But she's beautiful. And then she smiles. And suddenly, she's not just beautiful anymore, she's something more than that. She's stunning, breathtaking. I close my eyes for a heartbeat. And when I open them, she's still right beside me.

"I really like you" I repeat those words to her, and they are snatched from my tongue by the quick wind. I didn't think she could hear me over the crashing waves, but suddenly her smile is wider and she's walking slightly closer to me. Her shoulder brushing against my own, so close I can smell her perfume, and she's still smiling up at me.

"Oh god, I could kiss you right now" she's laughing, giggling softly. I don't say a word.

**Lorraine's POV**

"Do you want a drink babe?" I ask her, carefully. Already reaching for two wine glasses and feeling my hot palm collide with the cold glass. Like smooth, sticky ice. She shakes her head.

"No, I'm okay" she's smiling, sitting carefully on the very edge of the sofa. I wonder if she's as nervous as I am. She can't be.

"Are you sure?" I murmur. Thinking about replacing my wine glass. And she touches her tongue to her lips.

"I don't want a drink, but you have one, I don't mind" she shrugs. I look at her for a second, and sigh. I do need a drink. So I pour myself a glass of wine. White wine. To steady my nerves. I'm hoping ice-cold alcohol will take the edge off the burning tension in my chest. I hope it will. I pour my drink. My hand shakes, the bottle slips. A single splash of crystal clear liquid on the granite counter top. She doesn't notice. And then I sit beside her on the sofa. Cradling the cool glass between my sticky palms. I cross my legs. She clears her throat.

"I've had a great afternoon" she's smiling.

"You don't have to be polite, I'm not exactly the world's best date, am I?" I shrug as though it doesn't matter. Taking a sip of wine. And then another. Watching her as she wriggles a little bit closer to me.

"Don't say that." She frowns sincerely. I sip more wine. I want her to snuggle even closer to me. I want to kiss her, make her be quiet. Or maybe I just want her to kiss me. And she's watching me, a smile still playing on her lips.

"And I'm...I'm a little rusty at this whole dating lark" I'm looking away from her. And she clasps her hands together, resting her chin on them.

"I don't believe you" she shrugs, smiling. Teasing me maybe.

"No, it's been...ages since I've dated someone...someone properly." I smile shyly.

"Oh come on, you're funny, you're clever, you're hot. What's not to want to date?" she's grinning. Leaning back casually into the sofa.

"Shut up, I'm not any of those things, and I'm so bad at dating." I sit, nervous almost. My knees together, leaning forwards slightly, cupping my glass of wine between my palms.

"You're not doing that bad at dating. In fact, I think you're doing a damn good job" she smiles faintly as I bite at my bottom lip. Her smile widens a fraction. "Not that I'm any expert, it's been ages since I've, I don't know, had anything serious, either."

"Really?" I blink up at her.

"Yeah, I mean, I dated a few times when I was at university, but then I went in the army and, well, you don't have that much time for a girlfriend then. Everything was always so long-distance, and I was away for months at a time. And when you're that young, I mean, who wants a girlfriend who you only see once every four months?" She looks away from me for an instant. I think her back stiffens slightly, she sits up straighter. Suddenly miles away from me, under the burning Afghan sun, or in a cold barracks. I don't know.

"That must've been hard" I whisper. Because I don't know what else to say, of course I don't. She just shrugs and smiles. Back in an instant.

"It was okay. And why haven't you dated? You've got no excuse, and you must've had the girls falling all over you back in London" And she's smiling, teasing me a little.

"No, no, I really didn't. And I'm shit at asking people out. And I'm always busy, you know. I don't...I mean, I've never really have that much time for dating people." I speak quickly, trying to convince myself as much as her. She nods, as though she understands. She doesn't. She doesn't say anything either. So I continue to speak, too quickly. Scared that if I stop I might never start again. "I mean, I dated some boys when I was at school, but I was very good at leaving them if they...when they, I mean, before things got...physical..." I trail off. She looks at me, her eyes flickering all over my face.

"And that's it, just boys at school?" She tilts her chin down, to look me straight in the eye. Suddenly serious.

"No, I mean, I've slept with..." I sigh, looking around the room quickly. Looking for the right words. She's silent, watching me. "I...I get drunk and I...I sleep with people, and then we never talk again. Not that we talked much to begin with. Mainly fucking." I don't know what else to say. So I give her the blunt, honest truth.

"Oh" she murmurs. She's frowning a little bit, but her eyes still everywhere, as though she were trying to read my thoughts on my face. "Why?"

"Because...because this is scary. And it's easier not to be brave." I can't look at her. Looking up, blinking away the tears that press into my eyes, burning and unwelcome. Creeping across my vision. Blurring the world into the hot threat of tears. I blink.

"Oh" she says again. This time she nods a fraction.

"I sound stupid-" I whisper. I know she can hear tears in my voice. I take a deep, shuddering breath.

"No, no you don't" She's shaking her head and pulling me a little bit closer. And looking at me as though she were about to kiss me. She doesn't. She just watches my face, my lips, the way my eyes move.

"I'm sorry, it's just...I mean, I've never really spoken about...any of this" I think my voice might be shaking. I look up desperately towards the ceiling, scared that I might be about to cry. I don't think I will though. And she reaches out, taking my wine glass from me and brushing my hair away from my face. And then she leans forwards, kissing me. I breathe onto her lips. A sigh filled with boiling hot relief and burning fear and scalding embarrassment. And her lips taste of cold salt and comfort. Numbing, silencing. So that all I know are her lips and her skin and her hands holding me closer.

"I'm sorry" I whisper. Resting my forehead against hers. Nose to nose. Squeezing my eyes closed so that I don't have to think. I can concentrate on the hot lights bursting like fireworks behind my eyelids. Popping across my vision.

"What are you sorry about" she murmurs gently. I don't open my eyes. She kisses my top lip. And holds my head in her hands.

I move slightly closer to her, shuffling across the sofa. And she, she puts her arm around me. I snuggle back, resting my head on her shoulder. And I feel happy. She kisses me. Really softly, just brushing her lips against my own. And then she pulls away from me. My eyes flicker open. And she's looking at me.

"Kiss me again" I whisper, leaning towards her. She teases me, moving her chin away from me so my lips can't collide with hers. "Come on Nikki-" I murmur. I feel her laugh silently. And I hold her chin, kissing her properly now. Running my hands through her hair. And both her hands on my waist. Holding me tighter, pulling my body closer to hers. And then, suddenly, I don't want to wait. I just want her. I push her back onto the sofa roughly. Leaning over her. Kissing her. And she giggles.

"Lorraine," she gasps through her laughter and my kisses. Her hands on my waist, nails in my skin.

"Shh" I whisper. Kissing her again. Her lips are still hot with laughter. I kick off my heels, sending them clattering to the floor. And I'm breathing onto her lips.

"You're beautiful" she breathes through the kisses. And I just shrug all my hair over one shoulder. Platinum blonde curls. Her fingers tracing little circles over my skin.

"Shh" I whisper again. And she props herself up on one arm, leaning towards me. Feeling my breathing get a fraction heavier, my heartbeat beginning to race. I run my nails across her back. And she kisses me again, beautifully slowly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Wow look new chapter.**

**Let's not talk about what happened on Thursday I'm trying not to think about the fact that there was like uNDER TWO MINUTES of screen time of them together. So depressed.**

**Secondly, someone (I think they were anon, idk) asked if I had twitter and yes I do but I don't know how to reply to comments (I'm stupid) and so yeah I'll put it here, it's PostItNoteFan (cos I love post-it notes more than I love life itself, don't ask) but honestly my twitter is fucking boring I just tweet about like the weather and what's on TV, so don't feel obliged to follow me. I wouldn't follow me if I were you. **

**Finally, there is sex in this chapter. This isn't really that explicit (I don't think?) but like there is sex so just be warned. (I'm not going to tell you that you can't read this if you're under like 13 or something, cos I'm not your mam, and there are far worse life-choices you could be making) I'm also not going to rate this as M because I don't really know how the rating system works, (see above: me being stupid) and M probably just means like "REALLY HARDCORE GAY PORN" and this isn't so chill. It's mainly just like some nice snogging-and-sex because everyone loves some snogging. And sex. Yeah. (I'm sorry I'm also like 30% drunk right now so I'm sorry if this is REALLY SHIT. I haven't proof read at all.)**

**Chapter 12**

**Nikki's POV**

Her hands running through my hair, nails rough in the back of my neck, careless maybe. My hands on her waist, trailing down to her hips. Slowly. I take my time. My eyes still open. Watching her. Because I don't want close my eyes, I almost feel as though if I look away, this will all somehow come undone, and I'll be back in my flat. On my own. But her eyes are softly closed and her lips are quick as she leans over me, kissing me. Her hair curls all over her shoulders, like hot slick velvet over her skin. And she's kneeling above me, pinning me back against the hot leather of the sofa. She's murmuring half-formed, half-forgotten words against my lips as we kiss. Her eyes still squeezed closed. I brush her hair out of her face, gently, twisting a single strand through my fingers, and tucking it behind her ears. Her eyes are open now, looking down at me. Her lips still blushing red and slightly parted.

"What're you saying babe?" I whisper. Holding the back of her neck roughly, pulling her away from me. Her hands reaching for the buttons of my shirt. Managing to undo one...two... Another few inches of skin. I think her fingers shake a fraction as they run over my neck, my collarbones, finally gripping onto the loose collar of my shirt, but I'm not sure. I know her nails leave tiny, almost invisible red lines over my flesh. Fading in an instant. And she pulls me closer, and I prop myself up with one hand. Leaning closer to her. Kissing her, running my tongue over her lips gently. And then pulling away quickly. Her lips taste of vanilla. Sweetness, trickling over the very tip of my tongue. God. She's hot. "What're you saying?" I repeat, a little louder now. In case she didn't hear me before. But I know she did. And I know that she can feel my hot breath clashing against her skin as I speak. And finally her eyes flicker open. Piercingly, painfully blue. Pupils maybe a little too wide, shrinking quickly as she blinks. Her eyelashes fluttering, long, dark. Her make-up just slightly smudged. There's a pause. A heartbeat. Or maybe more, I don't know anymore. My heart is racing far too fast.

"It doesn't matter" she whispers. I think her voice shakes a little bit too. I touch her cheek, cupping her face in my hand. Brushing the side of my thumb across her cheekbone. She watches me, eyes fixed on my lips.

"Are you sure?" I whisper. Resting my forehead against hers. She nods quickly. Her eyes close. Cutting her into tight, close darkness. Separating her from me. I wish I could read her mind. So instead, I just watch her lips, the way they move as she breathes. I can actually feel her chest rise and fall too.

"Yeah" she breathes finally. And I close my eyes, and I kiss her again. And she's biting at my lips. And maybe I'm moving too quickly now, pushing her roughly back against the sofa. And I'm holding her waist, so tight I can feel the muscles of her stomach twist under my fingers as she breathes faster. And my fingers are fumbling quickly with the waist of her skirt. Quickly undoing the zip, pulling it down, over her hips. And she's kicking her legs, wriggling quickly out of her clothes. Her skirt falls to the floor beside her heels. Her slim, bare legs, kneeling on the dark leather of the sofa. I'm holding her waist again, pulling her chest closer, my nails digging into her jacket as she kisses me again. And her hands are fumbling with the last few buttons of my shirt. Tiny frustrated breaths crashing against my lips. I know she's frowning a fraction, concentrating maybe. I bite her bottom lip. And finally she's pulling my shirt away from my skin. Leaving it screwed up on the sofa. Her nails running over my shoulders. More little red lines.

"God Nikki" she mumbles before she kisses me again. And her lips are deliriously hot, fast. There's no doubt about it, she's a fantastically, scarily good kisser. And she's breathing too quickly, and I can practically feel her heart racing. I undo one button of her shirt. Then another. She's reaching for the buttons of my trousers. Touching her tongue against mine, softly caressing the roof of my mouth. She undoes the zipper, her hands shaking a little. Letting me wriggle out of my clothes.

And she's tearing her lips away from mine.

"C...come to bed?" It's a suggestion. She's not cockily confident, not yet. I can see her building a tiny wall behind her eyes, getting ready for me to knock her back, make some excuse. But I don't. I run my eyes slowly over her body. God, she's so hot.

"Do you want to?" I ask her again. Her answer is quick. And she's smiling now. Almost confident. Not quite though.

"Of course...of course I do." And she's leaning closer, kissing me again. A single kiss on my bottom lip.

"I thought...I thought I might be another of your...one time things" I can feel my stomach twisting into painful butterflies. I'm scared of her reply. And I think she's maybe a little bit scared too. I'm tilting my head slightly to one side. And I can feel her breathe in quickly, but she looks away from me, not letting me catch her gaze. Her hands tracing over the tight muscles in my arms, over my shoulders, across my back. Nails gentle, scraping at my skin.

"You're not...you're not..." she takes a deep breath in, and lets it rush through her nose. "Don't say that Nikki, don't ever say that. Don't. You're not." Her breathing is still shaky. I wonder if she realises how ragged her breathing is, making her chest rise and fall unevenly, too quickly. I reach out, and hold her hand, twisting my fingers through hers.

"Okay" I murmur, and I hold her hand tightly. I kiss each of her knuckles carefully, brushing my lips across her skin. "Okay" I whisper again. I want to convince her that I won't leave in the morning, leaving her with nothing but crumpled sheets glowing in the cool sun and tiny, thin scratch marks on her back. I want to be with her. Hold her hand as she sleeps, listen to her murmuring into the pillow. Her eyes flickering as she dreams. I kiss her again.

"Come on-" she's pulling away from me, standing now, only the very balls of her feet touching the ground as though she were still wearing her heels. I watch as the taught muscles that run up her calves flex a little, carving shadows under the toned muscle.

And I hold her hand, and stand. The floorboards cold under my bare feet. Letting her lead me through her flat, to the slightly ajar bedroom door. She closes the door carefully, the room tipping into darkness, dusky, rose coloured light seeping in through the window. Because the sunset glows blood red. I automatically raise my hand, ready to flick on the lights.

"No, don't" her grip tightens on my other hand. I can feel her hot palm. Maybe slightly damp. Just breaking a sweat. I glance at her.

"What?" My hand hovers over the light switch, my fingertips just brushing against the cool plastic.

"Don't turn the light on" her voice is softer now, hesitant. Achingly insecure. I look at her through the semi-darkness. And she shakes her head a little.

"Okay" I breathe. I don't question her. Instead, I kiss her again. Pulling her close. And she pushes me roughly back, against the wall. My spine colliding with the rock hard plaster. I gasp a little, onto her lips. So I can taste the faintest hint of wine on her breath. Sharp. Licking at my tongue. I hold her wrists, and move quickly.

Her body, pressed back against the wall. Her hot lips sliding over my neck. Her hands in my hair, nails in my scalp. I pull off her jacket, tossing it roughly to one side. So she's in a tight-fitting, white shirt. A thin gold chain running around her neck, trickling over her skin. I loop my fingertips through it, pulling on the hot metal. Watching the way her chest moves as she breathes. Her eyes are closed. I lean down, carefully kissing her collarbones, her neck, her chest. Running one hand quickly through her hair, letting it spill in hot blonde curls through my fingers. I sweep it back, over her shoulders and away from her chest as I continue to kiss her neck, pressing her body harder against the wall. Running the very tip of my tongue across where her pulse shudders through the artery. Feeling her blood pressing against my lips, pounding away under her skin. I bite her neck gently. She takes a quick, shaking, breath in. Sharp, tearing at her lungs and making her chest heave desperately for air. Her nails tighten into my flesh.

"Don't worry, I won't leave any marks" I breathe. And she shakes her head a little, her eyes still squeezed closed. I run my thumb carefully over where my lips hit against her skin. "There, you can't see a thing"

"I don't care" she murmurs. And she kisses me again, softly this time. She whimpers a little against my lips. I smile, and slowly, torturously, unbutton her shirt. My fingertips colliding gently with her skin as I fumble a little with the buttons. I kiss all along her jawline. Tiny, feather-light kisses. Making her wriggle against the wall, writhing my body, struggling impatiently to take her shirt off, her eyes opening as she tosses it roughly to the ground. Then she holds the back of my neck, and kisses me hotly.

"Bed" she breathes, her voice already low, breathless. I bite on my bottom lip, running my eyes slowly over her body. She's wearing black lingerie, Dolce and Gabbana, I think.

"Come here" I whisper. Holding both her hands, pulling her to the bed. Her palm is cool. Through the dim half-light, I can see her smiling. She looks happy, relaxed. And radiant, the setting sun at her back. Thick rays of light lacing through her hair, creating deep pools of shadow over her skin. And she climbs quickly onto the bed, her knees pressing dimples into the sheets. She holds my chin as I stand above her, and she's kissing me once again. And I hold the back of her neck, carefully, gently lowering her body down onto the sheets. Never tearing my lips away from hers. And suddenly I realise that her sheets are made of soft, charcoal grey silk, precisely the same shade as the rocks in the bay far below us. And they smell faintly of her skin, lacing delicately through the thin fabric. I kiss her, and she wriggles away from me slightly, so her head touches the pillows and in the rose-coloured light her hair spreads out, away from her face like a pale halo. Cashmere soft blonde curls, tumbling over the hot silk sheets.

"Nikki?" She murmurs. Looking at me. A tiny frown hovering between her eyebrows.

"God, you're beautiful" I whisper. And she doesn't smile. She just looks at me, watching me as I kneel above her. Her blue eyes open, pupils dilated too big, swallowing up her irises. Squeezing them into a thin, icy ring around the edge of her inky black pupils. She blinks. And I lean down, kissing her. Her lips, her neck, her chest. Her quick breaths hiss through her teeth, her jaw clenched shut. Tendons in her neck flexing. Tight. Tension. Nails in my back just a little too tight.

I hold her hips down against the mattress, my nails in the soft, pale skin of her stomach, my thumbs pressed against the tiny arches of her hipbones, jutting through her skin. I kiss her stomach slowly, just below her belly-button. Letting my lips linger on her skin until I feel her hips rise a fraction as she arches her back. Her breathing quickens. I kiss her stomach again. Then her hipbones. I hold her down. I can hear her breathing. Quick, frantic. Almost panting. I lick across her stomach. Tasting her hot sweat on the very tip of my tongue. Her skin. Her stomach twisting. And then, suddenly something else. Cutting through the scarlet red silence. Her phone, ringing dully in her jacket pocket, tossed carelessly on her bedroom floor.

"Is that your phone?" I breathe. Looking up at her. Her eyes are closed. Head back. Both hands raised, gripping onto the pillows tightly. Knuckles white.

"Oh shit-" she gasps through her teeth "don't fucking...stop..."

"Your phone..." I murmur again.

"It...doesn't matter"

"It might be important"

"Ignore it." She breathes.

I kiss her stomach, and I quickly unclasp her bra. Pulling it away from her body, tossing it to one side. Kissing between her breasts. Slowly. I can feel her heart beating against my lips. And I tease her. Trying to make her quick breathing drown out the high, annoying ringtone. Her breathing gets a little harder. I kiss just below her bra line. And she's panting, sweating. Her phone stops ringing abruptly, but she doesn't notice. One hand twisting through my hair as my lips go lower. My thumbs tucking into her thong. Soft, black lace. My nails scraping over her hipbones. I chew on my bottom lip, just for a fraction of a second. And then she's wriggling her thin, toned legs, kicking off her underwear. My nails scrape at her inner thigh. She's gasping through her teeth. Two fingers. She moans. Eyes closed. Her hips buckle a little. I go faster. Making her sweat. Making her gasp my name. I pull my fingers away, licking them. She moans, biting hard on her lips. Frustrated.

And quickly I bend my head back down. I nip along her hipbones with the very edge of my teeth. Gently at first, and then roughly. I kiss along her hipbones too. Slowly. I close my eyes. And my lips go lower. Her inner thigh. Two, no, three kisses. Her thighs tighten around my head. Tight, toned muscle.

"Jesus" she gasps. And then I go higher. My tongue. She's wet, soaking wet. And she's got one hand in my hair, her nails digging deep into my scalp. The other clutching at the side of the mattress, grip tight. Desperate, scrabbling fingernails.

"Oh god, oh...oh g-god..." I hear frustration, burning desire chocking back her words. Her voice low, laden with sex. Making her gasp, making her hips shudder. And she's trying not to moan, biting down hard on her own lips. It's not working. I move faster. She writhes, sweats. I hold her hips, nails deep in her flesh. Holding her down. I go slower, deeper. My tongue, her clit. "God-" she's moaning. Throwing her head back, arching her spine. The tiny, tight muscles in her stomach twisting, screaming. Tendons in her neck, sweat covering her chest-

And she climaxes. Her lips parting, gasping for air. Chest contracting. Every muscle in her body suddenly alight. Screaming silently. Silent, glowing ecstasy. Bubbling through her body. Sweat glistening on her skin, running like hot oil through her curls. Like liquid gold. Her eyes squeezed closed. Lungs heaving. Lights popping in front of her closed eyes.

I let her ride it out. Wave after wave of hot pleasure twisting through her body. Leaving her panting, hot. And I lick her clean.

And then, when she's gasping, running her hands through her sweaty hair, I fall into bed beside her. And I kiss her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone wow look chapter 12, I actually had to make a bookmark to fanfiction today on my computer so yes hello, me and this fic are in like a properly committed relationship now.**

**I'm really sorry that this chapter is like bullshit and nothing happens, but you should all be used to that by now so whatever. (Also, sorry that there is a surprising lack of character development here even by Waterloo Road standards, I'm actually quite impressed.)**  
**Also, it might be like forever before I get around to writing this again as I have exams all next week. Sorry. As levels are like the worst thing to have ever happened to me. And LOOK how hard I'm working for them. Yeah. Not hard enough.**

**Thank you very very much for reading and like leaving replies and things. I love reading them like a LOT so thank you.**

**Chapter 13**

**Lorraine's POV throughout **

I wake. But I don't open my eyes. I breathe in. And let it out. My eyes still closed. Lost in my own darkness. It's silent. I'm cold. My bedroom is cold, freezing cold. I want to pull the sheets up, over my shoulders, and go back to sleep. But somehow I know I won't. Because my heart is already beating too fast. Memories flickering through my mind, like crackling scenes in an old film. Still a little burred by sleep. Stress and adrenaline and fear and the burning hot memory of last night. Mixing together into a sickening cocktail, making my stomach churn. Making the memories clear, cleaning them as though I had been watching them through dirty glass. And now they're so bright, so crystal sharp that they cut me. Last night, memories of last night. And the night before. Oh god. Without opening them, I squeeze my eyes closed. Harder. And her face flickers in front of my eyes, just for a fraction of a second. Smiling down at me, as the rough sea breeze flicked her hair around her face. Oh god. And I raise both hands, and I rub my eyes. And tiny lights flash in front of me. I sigh. Trying, blindly, slowly, to detangle my mind.

I breathe in. My hands falling to my sides.

"You're straight, for god's sake, you're fucking, bloody straight and...and...and...And you're just confused" I tell myself. Silently.

I breathe out. Shakily. Feeling my hot palms beginning to sweat onto the cools sheets. Because I've never been a very good liar. Especially when I'm normally so brutally honest with everyone around me. Everyone except myself, of course. And I tilt my chin up a little. So that the tears pricking at me don't run out of the corners of my eyes, tracing little wet smudges over my skin. I don't want to admit that I'm crying. Just like I don't want to admit the reason for my burning tears to myself. Because I'm weak and I'm scared.

And I already know it's a little too early. Because the sun falling on my bare skin is still weak, watery. Cool. Because it's almost silent, and the sound of my alarm isn't screeching through the room. Because...because she's not awake yet. I know she's still sleeping, because I can't feel her hot gaze on my skin, or her soft hand just resting on my back. But I still inexplicably know that she's sleeping beside me. Maybe I can faintly feel her body heat clashing on my cool skin. I know that she isn't touching me, and part of me wishes that she would. Maybe that's why my chest aches like this, because I wish that she'd at least loosely hold my hand as she sleeps. God, I wish she'd hold my hand. Anything, just a glimpse of meaningless physical contact. Because, right now, with her sleeping body right beside me, I feel so alone. Maybe I feel more alone than I've ever felt in my whole life, even when I was sleeping on my own, night after night after night. Month after month. Just cold sheets and my slowing breathing and my own, private darkness. Or maybe I'm just aching for her touch. I just want her to hold me close, hug me so tightly that I could feel her breath and her heartbeat. I could rest my head on her chest as we slept, her arms wrapped loosely around my body. But no. No physical contact. And she doesn't even hold my hand.

And I slowly, reluctantly, I blink my eyes open. Blurred sleep and the burning residue of tears. Dawn is just breaking. Lighting up my bedroom. The crumpled, hot sheets. Twisting over my hips, leaving my torso entirely bare. So I can just about see the tiny red marks she left on my hipbones, and I run one finger across them. Imprints of her that she left there, on my skin. Making last night still tangible, somehow more real. And I inexplicably feel as though someone at work will notice. They'll notice something. Something, anything. Notice that something is different. And that someone will say something about it to someone else. And then, suddenly, it'll be all over the school. People talking and second glances and whispers. Whispers. God, the whispers. And it makes me feel sick just thinking about it.

But she's not worried, she's not laying awake and torturing herself. She's sleeping on the other side of the bed. She sleeps on her back. Her chest rising and falling just a little as she breathes. Softly. I reach out carefully, leaning closer to her, brushing a strand of her dark hair out of her face. I comb through it softly with my fingers, and I twist it around my fingertips, curling it a little. And then I snuggle a fraction closer to her. Tentative. I don't want to wake her. And I don't know what I should do. Because I've never done this before. I've never woken up, and stayed, watching someone else as they sleep. Do I kiss her? Would that wake her, annoy her? She looks tired, pretty and tired, with her lips slightly parted and her dark hair a mess, and I don't want to disturb her. Her hand is loose by her side. I could hold her hand, at least. Maybe I should. Maybe I want to. I trail my fingers over her palm for a second, teasing her skin with my fingernails. Tentative. Nervous. I take a deep, steadying breath as I see that my hand shakes. Scared maybe. I don't know. I tell myself to get a grip, sighing silently through my nose. And then, as though I'm suddenly confident, I hold her hand, pulling her palm close to mine. I roll onto my side, towards her. Pulling the sheets up over myself, all the way up to my neck. And then running my hand through my messy hair, brushing it over my shoulders. And now I'm shamelessly watching her as she sleeps. Her hand held loosely in mine.

For the longest time, I'm silent, and almost perfectly still. I attempt to time my breathing so that it's precisely in time with hers. Until I can feel sleep lapping at the corners of my mind again. My eyes beginning to feel heavy. Drooping slightly. My grip on her hand slackens a little, my loose fingers beginning to peel away from around hers. And maybe I've disturbed her. Maybe she can feel me watching her, because her eyelids are flickering slightly. And I'm instantly wide awake. She takes a deep breath in. I watch her chest rise. And she blinks her eyes open. Quickly attempting to focus on my face.

"Good morning beautiful" she breathes. A smile creeping over her face as she blinks up at me quickly.

"Mornin" I smile right back at her. And she glances down at our hands, twisted together. Her eyes flickering, struggling to focus on my face as I lean in closer. My hair brushing over her chest, as my lips hover over hers. I can taste her breath, feel it hot on my skin. And then I kiss her. Her teeth pulling on my bottom lip, her tongue running over my mouth. And then I pull away from her. Resting my head on her chest. Suddenly, I'm not smiling anymore.

"This..." she tries to suppress a yawn, and it doesn't quite work. "This is a great way to wake up" she stretches. And I can feel her tight muscles contract as she moves.

"Yeah" I murmur. Glancing up at her. And then away. I don't want to make eye contact, because I'm suddenly scared that she'll see the shadow of my tears clinging behind my eyes, the pain fading from my face.

"You okay?" she murmurs quietly. Brushing my hair out of my face, and she's wrapping my hair around her fingers, pulling my face a fraction closer to hers. "Are you okay babe?" she whispers, repeating her words. As though I didn't hear her the first time.

"Yeah" I whisper. One word. "Yeah." And then I lean closer to her, and I kiss her again. And she breathes onto my lips. And she cuddles a little bit closer to me. Her hands trailing around my back, her nails sketching out little tiny lines on my skin. Her eyes are fixed on my lips, and I know that she wants me to wriggle even closer to her, I know that she wants me to kiss her again. And I look at her. And she's still watching me, her eyes too quick, too clear as they completely cover my body. Quick. Focusing, settling on my eyes. Holding my gaze this time.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I can feel the silence between the two of us, between our bodies. Tight. Making me think about all the things I should be telling her. All the things in my head. But she's shaking her head a little. And breaks the silence.

"What time is it?" She murmurs, finally glancing away from me. Her eyes heavy, as though it took a tremendous effort to look away. "Are we going to be late for work?" she breathes.

"I don't know" I glance around my room. There's no alarm clock. Normally, I sleep with my phone beside my bed. Plugged in, charging, but never switched off. But now, it's in my jacket pocket, thrown somewhere on my bedroom floor. I roll away from her. For a fraction of a second, her hand on my back tightens. Holding me still. But then she drops her hand down to the mattress, and she lets me wriggle away from her. I sit on the edge of the mattress reaching for my jacket. She's not looking at me, I know that she's not looking at me. And I inexplicably hate it. I shiver a little. And my hands shake as I fumble with my phone.

"It's only six" I say, turning to look at her. My phone still clutched in my cold palm. The cool plastic of the case, colder than my skin.

"We're not going to be late for work" there's a tone of surprise in her voice.

"Thank god, at least you don't have to prise me out of bed like you did yesterday" I roll onto my back, falling back into bed beside her. With one hand, pulling the sheets over my chest, and with the other brushing my hair away from my face. And she smiles at me, shaking her head a little.

"We've got an hour and a bit?" she looks away from me.

"An hour and a half if I drive to work fast" I smile. And she's shrugging. And I'm rolling onto my chest, holding the sheets a little higher over my body, inching closer to her still. I nod, brushing my lips over hers. Feeling her fingers lacing through my blonde curls. She's sweeping my hair away from my neck as I lean over her. Propping herself up on her other arm, leaning towards me. Kissing the pale nape of my neck. Once. I wish she'd kiss me again.

"An hour and a half?" She looks at me, and she's sitting up properly now. There's something hot, suggestive in her voice, coating her words. A hint of a smile in her eyes.

"Uh-huh" I nod. Biting on my bottom lip. Trying to stop a smile from creeping across my lips as she leans in towards me again. Her eyes fixed on my lips, her lips slightly parted. I let my eyes flutter closed. Ready for the kiss. But that contact never comes. For the briefest second I can feel her breath. Her lips dangerously close to mine. Almost brushing over my lips. Not quite. And then she pulls away sharply. Biting at her lips. Leaving me breathing a little too quickly, eyes flying open. Wanting more. "What are we going to do then?" I murmur. Smiling.

"You could offer me a coffee?" she suggests. Faking innocence. As I lean towards her, kissing her again. One, single kiss.

"Uh-huh?" I'm nodding a little, smiling from ear to ear now.

"Or I could go home, and we could make it slightly less obvious that we're..." And then I'm kissing her. One of her hands on my bare back, the sheets just slipping away from my chest. Her palm on my bare skin, her tongue gentle. And then she tears her lips away from mine. "...that we're sleeping together?" she finishes the sentence coolly. I'd think that she was indifferent, if I couldn't feel her breathing quicken slightly as I look her in the eye.

"Uh-huh?" I murmur again. And I raise one eyebrow a fraction, and touch my tongue to my lips. I can still taste her kisses. I try not to let my voice shake as I raise one hand, softly running my very fingertips carefully down her neck, over her collarbones."Or...or...or you and me could...we could..." My voice trails away. And she's biting at her lips, smiling silently, her eyes all over my face, my body. She tilts her head to one side. Leans closer to me, her cheek brushing softly past mine as she whispers to me.

"I can think of something else to do"

"Yeah, me too" I murmur. Grinning now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi I wrote this today when I should've been revising for my French exam tomorrow. Wow, when I fail, I'm blaming YOU. Yes. You.**

**Chapter 24**

**Nikki's POV**

"Nikki, have you got any of the English coursework results in yet?" Tom is suddenly looking over at me, frowning. I flip through some of the paper folders spread over my desk, which is a mess. Folders and pens and scrap paper and stray pieces of homework strewn all over the wooden desk. Half-empty mugs of tea perched precariously at the edge. Even if the coursework was lost within the mess somewhere, I know that I wouldn't be able to find it. I also know that I should probably stay late one night after work, and tidy it all up. But at the same time, I know that I won't. Because, before I left that morning, she asked me if I wanted to go for a drink that night. I try to stop a smile from creeping across my face at the thought, and the way she looked up at me. All at once cockily confident but chokingly shy. Her hands steady and soft, her eyes pleading with me. Insecure. I try my hardest not to smile. But I don't think it works, so I duck my head a little, hiding my secretive smirk. Because Tom is still looking over at me. And I sigh, exasperated, because I can't find the folder.

"Umm, no, do you want me to talk to Christine about it later? Or I could ask Michael if you want?" I suggest, frowning. And he's looking down now, rifling through one of the draws in his desk again. Looking for coursework that we both know that he won't find.

"Oh god, no, it's fine, I'll go have a word with Christine now." He stands, pushing away his chair and shaking his head. He's clenching his fists, and slowly unclenching them again as he walks towards the door. I know he's annoyed, tired. We've only been back at work for less than a week, but I can tell that he needs another holiday.

"Tom, I'll do the paperwork for them, and I'll submit it all." I say quickly before he leaves. He looks around at me, a quick flash of gratitude in his eyes.

"When are you going to do that?" he's saying sceptically. "This is ridiculous, we're already overworked and there's a huge backlog now Grantly's gone indefinitely."

"Don't worry about it, I'll do it"

"Nikki, it's only going to get worse when the exams start, and god knows, Lorraine won't splash out for another English teacher." There's something tight, angry in his throat. I dig my nails into the palls of my hands, and promise myself that I'll stay calm. I'm not sure if I'm angry with Tom or with Lorraine or with myself. Because I know that at least part of me agrees with him. But I also know that I'll defend Lorraine, each and every time, jumping to her defence.

"I'll stay late tonight, I've already got some stuff to do here, so I'll be staying anyway." I promise him quickly. My voice cool. Before I even know what I'm saying. Before I've registered that I was supposed to be going out for a drink with Lorraine, before I've remembered the look on her face earlier, that smiling anticipation as I kissed her goodbye. I can't imagine how she's going to feel if I blow her out for a hot date with marking and English coursework.

"Now you've made me feel like I should stay too" he's frowning, opening the door, already heading out of the office. "I don't have anything really to do at home either"

"It's fine" I shake my head a little, "I should sort out this mess while I'm at it" I spread my hands, indicating my messy desk. He shakes his head a little, but doesn't argue with me. Because I know that he doesn't want to stay late after work. I don't really either. But I feel bad, as though I haven't been pulling my weight. As though I've still got something to prove. And there's a moment of silence.

"I'll go see Christine now." He says.

"Oh Tom-"

"Yeah?"

"If you see Lorraine, can you tell her I want a word? No rush, I've just got some numbers she might want to look at." He nods a little as I speak.

"I'll go find Her Ladyship now" he rolls his eyes, smiles at me quickly, and leaves the office. The door slamming shut behind him. I rest both my elbows on my desk, head in my hands. I breathe in deeply. And out again, through my nose. And I look up, roughly shaking my hair out of my face.

And it's later.

A knock on my office door. And, without waiting for my reply, the handle is being twisted. And then I see her face, just poking around the edge of the door. And she looks at me. She looks nervous. Biting on her bottom lip. Her blue eyes flicker quickly over the office. Quickly noticing that we're not alone. Because Tom is working quietly at his desk once again. Those final threads of confidence fall from behind her eyes. And she looks sad. Outwardly, she looks happy, confident. But at the same time, she looks a little sad.

"Umm...Nikki, you wanted a word?" She says. And she hovers by the door for a tiny fraction of a second.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Come in." I nod at her, encouragingly maybe. My voice light, friendly. But perhaps a little distant. And then she strides into the room, slowly crossing her arms across her chest. She's smiling at Tom, who raises his eyebrows quickly and looks back down to the marking spread across his desk. It's not that he doesn't like her personally, but I'm sure that he doesn't agree with some, if not all, of her ideas for the school. I look away from him.

"You wanted to talk?" She's leaning against the edge of my desk carefully. Her legs crossed, her arms folded tightly. She looks protective. A little scared maybe. And her impossibly blue eyes are flickering over my face, over and over again. I look away from her, back to the screen of my computer. Scrolling down the page, my eyes following the lists of file names.

"Yeah, umm...hold on..." I move my mouse a little, and I click on a file. "Look, here." I point at the first name.

"What?" She says, leaning closer to me. Looking at the screen. Not for long though, glancing at the words and numbers for almost a fraction of a second. And then she looks back at me. I frown a little, wishing she'd just focus on the numbers.

"We could be making a saving of umm...39% if we changed our textbook suppliers, look-" I say. My voice cool. Maybe a little too cool, I don't know. But I can feel her eyes on my lips. I can sense the frown on her face.

And then the bell goes.

"You've got 11c now?" I ask Tom, glancing up at him. He rolls his eyes, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Don't remind me"

"Have fun" I smile sarcastically. He sticks two fingers up at me, and opens the door.

"Nikki, if Christine brings in that coursework, thank her from me?" he frowns as I nod, and then he leaves. Shrugging on his jacket and closing the office door carefully this time. And Lorraine's still looking at the computer screen, bottom lip clutched between her teeth as she concentrates.

"Oh, Lorraine-" I say. And she glances back up to me, her eyes flickering over my body for a fraction of a second. Eagerly.

"Yeah?" A flash of a frown between her eyebrows as she speaks.

"I'm really sorry, but I'm not going to be able to come later" I say. Easily, as though it doesn't really matter. As though I'm not bitterly disappointed, as though I'm not internally kicking myself for volunteering to do the damn work. And she nods once, and instantly drops her gaze, looking down at the floor. She looks, for a split second, as though her heart has dropped right to the glossy red soles of her six-inch Louboutin heels.

"Oh, okay?" she murmurs, so quietly that I can barely hear her over the crashing sound of locker doors and shouting kids out in the corridor. I wish that I could somehow make her feel better, and repair the damage caused by my tone. My careless, stupid tone. I wish I could hug her, hands on her waist. Or even just hold her hand. I don't know. But I know that I can't, because Tom could come back in at any moment, because maybe he's forgotten his lesson plan. Or, even worse, Christine could come in, dropping off the English coursework. So I sit still, watching her. Silently watching her, wishing that I could do something, anything. "That's okay" she says, more confidently now.

"Are you sure, I'm really sorry. I mean, I could probably get out of it, but I can't leave Tom to do it all, I'd feel really bad"

"No, no, you're alright. That's fine." She nods once, and smiles. And she tries her best, but it's so, so achingly obvious that it isn't okay, it isn't fine. That something inside her is breaking, and I don't know what I can say to her. So I pretend I haven't noticed.

"Great," I reply quietly. "Maybe some other time, if you want?" I run my hand over the soft sleeve of her jacket, quickly. So, even if someone was to come in, no one could see. Maybe so quickly that she doesn't even notice, because she doesn't move, and she doesn't look at me for a moment, her impossibly blue eyes fixed once again on the screen. A tiny crease between her eyebrows. For a second, my hand hovers over her arm, not quite touching her. I'm not sure if she's thinking about the figures on the screen, or about my words. And then I drop my hand quickly down to my side, brushing my palm over the leg of my trousers.

And then she looks down at me, and smiles a little. "Some other time, that'd be great" her smile widens a little. And she wriggles a little closer to me across the messy desk. And she bends down towards me. Just brushing her lips against mine. Breathing in. And then kissing me softly. Her eyes closed, mine open. She doesn't touch me, only our lips meet. For a moment. And then I pull away. Her eyes flying open again, flying over my face.

"People...people might see" I breathe onto her skin as I tear my lips away from hers. Feeling her tiny breaths just colliding with my lips, as her eyes fly over my face, again and again. A tiny frown hanging between her eyebrows still.

"Nikki" she pouts frowning, leaning closer again. But I pull away from her.

"This is like the height of unprofessional. And everyone in the staff room, they've only just got over my promotion, they're not going to be happy if they find out I'm screwing my boss." I slide away from her a little. But I'm smiling, teasing her gently.

"You mean Christine, she's the only one unhappy about your promotion. And I don't give a fuck what they think." She's brave maybe. God, she can be brave. For a little under a fraction of a second. Her blue eyes blazing down into mine. Filled with something like burning fire. Hot and freezing cold, both at the same time. God, she's beautiful. And then she blinks. And then, suddenly, she's young and scared and impossibly insecure. Delicate. "I mean...I mean..." her eyes fly to the ceiling, thinking of how to string the thoughts in her head into words. "I mean. I don't want people to know. But if they do know, I don't care what they think of me. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah" I breathe. I nod a little, watching her as she touches her fingertips to her lips. Running the edge over her thumb across her bottom lip. One, tiny smudge of pink lipstick on her pale skin, carefully erasing any trace of my lips.

"Kiss me again?" she says. I shake my head, laughing at her. I reach out towards her. One hand loosely on her waist. Her eyes flicker down, watching my hand, her face serious.

"I'd do you right here on this desk, but I'd never get those UCAS application forms back in the right order again." I gesture vaguely towards the folders stacked up beside her. My voice dry, mock serious, forcing the smile from my lips.

"God, shut up" She smiles back at me, and I can feel her ribs fall a little as she laughs. Silent laughter, as though she's too scared to even laugh without people hearing us. Her eyes fly over my face, and she kisses me again as she smiles. Once, on my bottom lip. And then she's getting up. "I'll call you?" She says. Her voice a little cool, and I don't know why.

"Yeah." I reply, smiling at her.

**Lorraine's POV**

I lay on my back. Staring blankly at the ceiling. I've been awake for hours. With one hand I sweep my still slightly damp hair away from my face. Heavier at the roots, still dark with cool water. Because I let it drip dry after showering. And with my other hand I pull the sheets away from my body. My hands rough, tugging at them impatiently. I'm too warm. Boiling hot, my skin feels sticky, the air seems to clog up my lungs. Making it a little too difficult to breathe. And I can't sleep either.

So, slowly, I get out of bed. Bare feet on the floorboards as I cross the room. Raking my fingers through my messy hair. Blinking the sleep from out of my eyes. Grabbing my iPod from the dressing table, quickly unlocking it, scrolling through songs. I need something, anything, to distract me right now. I dock it into my speaker system, and press play. The song starts, streaming through the room. And I sit right at the edge of the bed once again. Silk sheets suddenly cold under my bare skin. I breathe in. And let the icy cool music twist over my body.

_"You move through the room, like breathing was easy"_

"God. God, no, get a grip." I whisper to myself. And I fall back into bed. And I roll over onto my chest. Hands fumbling with the pillows as I try to flip them over too. And I fall back into bed. Cool side of the pillow pressing against my hot cheek. I close my eyes, squeezing them closed. Trying too hard to sleep. I don't care. I don't really care if I never really sleep again. Thoughts flip through my mind at dizzying high speed, too fast to focus on. Blurring through my mind, making my closed eyes burn. I wish I could block it all out. I wish I could call her. I roll onto my back again, listless, and reach out blindly for my phone.

_"And the end comes too soon, like dreaming of angels"_

My hand collides with my phone. Cold, my hot palm. I can feel my sweat condensing onto the cool case. I look at it blearily as I unlock it. Temporarily blinded by the hot white light as I read the time. It's nearly midnight. I feel as though I've been here for hours, and it's only midnight. I tell myself that she won't be awake. Surely she's not awake. And she certainly isn't thinking about me.

I drop my phone to the sheets. My hands over my face, breathing quickly through my fingers. I close my eyes, and I think about her. Sleeping on her back, sheets rumbled around her body. I can remember the precise timing of her breathing. I open my eyes too quickly, seeing stars for an instant. Before her face flashes before my vision again. And then I stare blindly up at the ceiling. My eyes blank and unseeing.

I run over our earlier conversation in my head. The way my heart turned a full semi-circle when she touched my sleeve, gently. My fear of getting caught together suddenly contagious, making her careful. Too careful. I remember our words. "I'll call you" I'd said. I hadn't. Maybe it's too late now, maybe she'll be sleeping. But maybe she won't. My phone is within arm's reach, my fingers scrabbling at the case as I pick it up. Unlocking it again. I scroll down the phonebook. And I find her name.

And before I fully know what I'm doing, before I can over analyse every word I'm going to say to her, I hear the dialling tone. And then her phone is ringing. One ring. Two. I grasp my bottom lip between my teeth and frown, already half hoping that she won't pick up. Because I have no idea what I'm going to say to her. And then I smile, a grin spreading across my cheeks as I hear her accept the call unhesitatingly, almost embarrassingly quickly.

"Hey?" her voice is low, confused.

"Hey babe," I say. And there's a moment of silence between us, and I feel as though my heart has stopped beating. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

I can hear her quick breathing on the other side of the line as she laughs sleepily. "No"

"Oh god, I did wake you, god, I'm so sorry" I mutter, my voice too quick, too wide awake.

"No, Lorraine, it's okay" she's laughing. And her laugh is low, laced with hot sleep. I close my eyes and I can imagine her rolling onto her back, one hand running through her short hair, the other holding her phone to her ear.

"I'm sorry" I apologise again.

"Stop saying sorry, it's fine babe" she repeats. Laughter in her voice, licking at her words. "Seriously, it's fine. What're you calling about?"

"I just wanted to talk" I whisper, knowing as I speak how stupid, how clingy I must sound. And she's giggling sleepily again.

"It's nearly midnight, and you're calling me just to talk? God, are you missing me already?" She's smiling, I know because I can hear it in her voice. She's grinning. So I'm smiling too, as I roll onto my side, pulling the sheets up over my shoulders, right up to my chin, and awkwardly balancing my phone beside my ear on the pillow. "Lo?" she murmurs, and the sleep in her voice is thick, twisting up her words. I can hear her breathing, slow, steady. I sigh. And I slowly wriggle, happily. And then I smile.

"I just wanted to say goodnight" I murmur. And my eyes flicker closed.


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't have any excuse why this chapter is shit, I'm not even that drunk. I just have a lot of feelings about Waterloo Road last night (and if anyone would like to cry with me via twitter that's fine.) Again, sorry about this.**

**Chapter 15**

**Lorraine's POV**

Head in my hands. Elbows propped on my black glass desk in the office I share with Michael. Sitting right on the edge of my seat. And my phone is turned off, silent in my handbag. And I look blankly at the print outs laid in front of me. Sheet after sheet of thick white paper and tiny black lines. My eyes blur as I stare at them, making it impossible for me to concentrate. I don't think I've eaten all day. But I've drank cup after cup of strong black coffee in a desperate attempt to focus. But now I just feel a little sick.

"Lorraine, are you okay?" I look up at Michael sharply, shaking my hair out of my eyes as he speaks. He's holding the door open. And I suddenly realise that he's got his briefcase held beneath one arm, his jacket thrown over his shoulders.

"What time is it?" I murmur, frowning.

"Half seven." He's glancing at his watch as he speaks.

"Already? Oh god, I hadn't noticed" I say, as much to myself as to him. She must be at home now. Maybe she's been trying to ring me. Maybe she's not. I don't know, and part of me doesn't want to. I don't want to think about how I would feel if I turned on my phone and there were no missed calls from her, only half a dozen from the office and my PA. Michael frowns as he looks at me, his eyes clear, piercing.

"Everyone has gone home, and I need to get back too, Christine's waiting for me." He says quietly.

"I don't want to know about your domestic bliss" I snap. And he looks at me, a little shocked. Affronted. I suddenly realise how I must sound. I blink, and glance away. Into empty space. Instantly regretting my words. "I mean, you can get off if you want, I'll lock up the office" I nod a little, and attempt to smile. I don't know if it works, but he nods sharply, and pulls the keys from his pocket.

"Here-" he draws his arm back a little. Ready to throw them.

"No! Don't throw-" I raise my hands instinctively to catch them just as he tosses the heavy keys across the room towards me. I watch them arch through the air, and in my head, I don't think I'll catch them. I gasp, but I do. Just. My fingers shaking, fumbling against the cold metal. "Michael, I said don't throw them!" I call after him, but he's already gone, just the bottom of his jacket disappearing out of the office door. I sigh. And I fall further back into my plush leather chair. And I close my eyes. Blacking out the world.

I haven't seen her all day. And she hasn't called either. Not one text. At three, once all the kids had gone home, I turned my phone off. Because I don't want to know if she's calling me now. Maybe she's not going to. Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe this was all a mistake, a dreadful, painful mistake. It was a mistake right from the start. I should've known better. I sigh. And look back down at the paperwork.

There's a tiny, gentle tap at my office door. And I look up far, far too quickly. My eyes snapping to the slowly opening door, and Nikki pokes her head around the corner, smiling slightly when she sees me.

"Hey, have you been avoiding me?" She's frowning a little, but still smiling as she looks at me. Gently teasing me maybe.

"No" I shake my head. I want to smile back, but I don't manage it. And I watch her as she leans against the doorframe, glossy wood digging into her back. She touches her tongue nervously to her lips, both hands stuffed into her pockets.

"I haven't seen you in the staffroom all day, are you okay?" She asks, tilting her head a little to one side as she watches me. Concerned, her voice so gentle.

"Yeah" I nod. And attempt a smile. It doesn't quite reach my eyes, and she looks thoroughly unconvinced.

"I saw Michael on the way out, and he said you were still here. Are you okay? You look a bit..."

"Shit?" I glance down at the papers in front of me, shrugging, mock-casual. Too scared to maintain eye contact for a second longer. In case I break down in shaky, scared tears.

"Stressed." She finishes the sentence quietly, her voice so soft. And I look up at her again as she starts to walk slowly through the office towards me. "You never look shit. And if you want to talk at all?" It's a vague suggestion, almost a question, but not quite. And I think she already knows I'll refuse the offer. She knows that I don't talk.

"I'm okay" I smile at her gently, sincerely. And this time, it doesn't take such a huge effort, as though the more I practice, it's getting easier. She nods a little, and sits beside me on the desk. Crossing her arms a little protectively across her chest. "I really like you Nikki." I murmur. Her smile widens.

"Are you sure you're okay? What's brought this on?" She asks. I shrug. She glances away from me, down at the floor. I wish she'd look at me again. Tingling eye contact. When my eyes scream all the things my lips will never dare to shape.

"Nikki" I repeat her name. And I stand, pushing my chair away roughly. I take a tiny step closer to her, taller than her for once. Because she's still half-sitting on the edge of my desk. And her eyes flicker up to meet mine, a smile still playing at the corners of her lips.

"Yeah?" She murmurs, tilting her chin up too as I move a little closer still. She's smiling, her eyes wide open. I move closer. My mouth open, my lips just slightly parted, tasting her breath on my tongue. Hot anticipation. And then I kiss her. And she smiles, I know she smiles. And she kisses me back.

My fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, scrambling to undo one, two. Her eyes flutter open. She's still kissing me, but suddenly she's holding my wrists gently, and kissing me slowly. Slowing it down. Her tongue on mine gentle, hot. And as I wriggle free of her grasp, she pulls away from me a little. Breathing, and then speaking.

"Here?" she gasps, between kisses, because I pull her close once again. Closing the screaming gap between our bodies. And I run my fingers through her hair, her scalp and my nails and her hot breath. God. And I kiss her again, my mouth open, before I reply. My voice hot and low.

"Michael's gone home" I feel her laugh as I speak, her hands on my hips tightening a little, pulling my body closer still. Her hands reaching for the first button of my shirt. Quickly undoing it. Then the second. The third. Fourth. Her hands on the bare skin of my waist, nails in my flesh as she runs her fingers gently along my ribs. I grasp at her hair roughly, kissing her jawline quickly as she continues to slowly unbutton my shirt. Her hands meticulous, as though she has all the time in the world. And then she holds my waist again, spinning me around and pinning my body back against the sharp edge of the table, digging into my lower back, making my spine ache a little. Eyes closed, I kiss her lips.

"You're so beautiful, you're so bloody beautiful" she murmurs against my lips, so softly that I can barely hear her words.

And then a new voice comes bursting in on our hot silence. Sending an icy knife through my chest. Forcing all the air from my lungs, and I feel it rushing from my body. Three words.

"Sorry, Lorraine, I-"

As though the world has been cut into slow motion, I can feel her body twist as she gasps. And my eyes fly open, and she springs away from me. Her hands snapping to her sides as though my body burnt her. Ten thousand, stunningly scared volts charging through my veins. And I'm clutching quickly at the loose fabric of my shirt. My eyes down, burning with embarrassment. Pulling it back around my body. Crossing my arms as she swings around to face the door, knowing already who she'll see.

"Michael" she gasps. And I glance up. My eyes quick with fear. And I knew already who I'd see, but somehow I wasn't ready for the look on his face.

"What are you doing here?" I say. My voice loud, cutting. Surprise and fear blending seamlessly together, filling my voice with something scarily close to anger.

"I could ask you the same thing." His eyes. Skimming over my smudged lipstick and her loosened shirt. I blush violently.

"Michael, I can't, this, this isn't what it looks like, I swear-" I gasp. Everything inside me draining quickly away. And I'm turning away from him too, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, my fingers moving too quickly to do up the buttons. I swear through my teeth, and I feel the tension in the room rise to bursting point. Burning at my cheeks, straining at my stammering heartbeat. And she moves slightly, suddenly defensive, so he can't see me. Not that he's looking. I can feel his gaze singeing every corner of the room but me.

"Look, Michael, I can explain" I say, fighting to keep my voice cool as I turn back towards him. And she's silently running one hand through her slightly messy hair. Attempting to make it appear as though, mere moments earlier, I wasn't running my fingers roughly through her short dark hair. I breathe quickly through my nose. And I can feel my heart pounding. Burning embarrassment scalding at my cheeks.

"Nikki, get out" he says, looking down. Looking away from me, away from her. Something cold in his voice, am I just imagining it? Lapping at his words, making my skin crawl into hot, embarrassed goosebumps. I feel sick.

"No, Michael" I murmur. Because, inexplicably, I need her there. She hesitates, her eyes flickering over Michael's face. She hunches her shoulders slightly.

"Get out" He says again. I hear as she breathes in. And I can feel her eyes flicker from me, to Michael, and back down to the floor. She breathes out. Filling the room with hot tension. God. Quickly. A muscle in her jaw twitches a little. And then she grabs her jacket from the back of my chair. And she leaves, slamming the office door behind her. I feel the sound reverberate through the deathly silent room. And, when she's gone, I turn away from him too, sitting back in my high-backed cream leather chair. My knees together, my back straight. My eyes down. As though I were a schoolgirl caught smoking behind the bike sheds again. "Lorraine?" His voice is softer now. He's tilting his chin down. He wants to make eye contact. And I look up at him, meeting his gaze. For nearly a fraction of a second. And I look away. He breathes out through his nose. "You and Nikki?"

"What?" I look up at him. My eyes sharp. Not yet bright with the threat of tears. Not yet.

"You and Nikki. What's going on?" He's fighting to keep his temper. I can tell.

"What does it look like to you?" I snap.

"It looks like...you're a hypocrite." He shrugs, and shakes his head. Something in his voice breaks. He's angry.

"You won't tell anyone, Michael, please" And something in my voice breaks too. Shattering to the floor. My hands shake, so I clasp them tighter together.

"I'm sure Tom would be very happy for you. And Christine too. Especially considering Nikki's rather...unorthodox appointment as deputy head. Was that before or after she jumped into bed with you?"

"It's not like that, I promise"

"That's how it looks to me."

"Don't tell anyone. You won't, will you?"

"Why shouldn't I? Have you slept with any other members of my staff, Lorraine? To help you get what you want? Tom maybe, or-"

"To get what I want? What the hell do I want? You tell me that. Michael, I want this bloody school to be a success and if you didn't have to fight me every inch of the way, it'd be a damn lot easier-"

"All the same, I think the other members of staff might be interested to know how to get promoted."

"Don't make me beg you Michael. Please." I shake my head. Choking the words out, tears blocking up my throat. Constricting my airway, until I feel sick and dizzy. And look down at my hands. Clasped together in my lap, so tightly that my knuckles are white. Bloodless.

"I won't. I won't say a word." He says simply. Maybe he can taste the thick fear slicking over my skin. I nod. And I feel ill.

"Thanks." I murmur.

"Who knows about you and Nikki? Sonya?" His voice is softer now. Kinder. His pale eyes searching. He should be on this side of the desk, he's the one in control here. And he's sitting opposite me, leaning forwards, resting his elbows on my desk. Coolly, cockily confident. His eyes flying over my face, the frown between his eyebrows deepening. But I don't look up at him, I laugh a little at the mere thought of telling my sister. And I shake my head slowly.

"No." I say. "We haven't...I mean, I haven't told anyone."

"Your mum?"

"She doesn't know who I am most days. She definitely doesn't know that I'm...seeing someone." And my voice is shaking now, shamelessly, dangerously close to the edge of tears. I hear him breathe in as my bottom lip trembles a fraction.

"Oh." He nods a little. His voice is gentler now. And I can feel him willing me to stay strong. He doesn't want me to cry, I know he'd feel the same sickening embarrassment. Maybe without the burning shame. I don't know. "Look, Lorraine-"

"No. No. I don't want to talk about this. I should go." My head snaps up to look at him, straight in the eye. I know he can see the tears rapidly filling my fading eyes, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. And I'm standing, quickly fumbling with the papers spread across my desk, stuffing them roughly into my bag. He's still speaking, but I barely hear his words. "Won't Christine be waiting for you?" I say, pulling on my jacket.

"Lorraine, wait" he's losing his temper, running rapidly out of patience. And I'm clinging to the brink of tears, terrified to let that show.

"Just leave it Michael, okay?" I round on him, one shaking hand already on the cool door handle. I don't look at him. And I leave, before I let it break me.

* * *

Later though, I don't just break. I crumble. When the door to my flat is closed, and my Ferarri keys are clutched in my cool palm, I cry. Silently. Leaning back against the door.

Until my lungs burn and my chest aches.

Until I'm blinded, and numb. Through and through.

Until I don't know what I want or what I should do. Until I don't even know who I should be. I just know what I need. Who I need.

So I call her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for like all the reviews and everything and thank you for reading, they really do make me happy. Look, here's a new chapter because I love you.**

**Also, I'm sorry that this is short and rubbish. Sorry.**

**Chapter 16**

**Nikki's POV**

I knock. Once. And the door opens instantly, before I've even lowered my hand. As though she's been waiting for me, hovering right beside the door. The thought sends my insides wriggling, nervous. And she looks at me for a fraction of a second, and drops her gaze to the floor. I can feel my heart drop too.

"Hey Lo" I murmur, smiling a little as she looks up at me again. She's wearing a skin-tight white vest, pale blue jeans, and her hair is sopping wet, dripping onto her vest and making it turn clingy and transparent. And I can instantly tell that she's been crying. Her blue eyes delicately rimmed with red. Tears still clinging to her eyelashes, making them dark and matted.

"Sorry I look shit, I've just had a shower" she averts her eyes, and turns away from me. I close the front door quickly behind myself. At the slight click of the door, she glances back at me. Biting at her bottom lip, her hair dark with hot water, eyes red from the burning tears.

"You don't. You don't look shit." I murmur.

"Yeah, right" She scoffs, and she looks away from me quickly, and carefully sits right at the very edge of the sofa. She almost painfully looks nervous. Silently, I kick off my converses and I sit beside her. Maybe three inches of cold leather between us. Screaming space. I wonder if I should hold her hand, or sit a little closer to her. I don't know.

"So, come on. What did Michael say?" I ask her softly. Silently praying that she won't cry again. But she doesn't. She just nervously clasps her hands in her lap, and looks down at them. I look down too, inspecting the way her hands are twisted together. Knuckles white, nails short. She takes a deep, shaking, breath in.

"He...he said that I was like...he said that I'm...sleeping with...you because, I mean, so I can get what I want, get my own way about the school." She frowns, stammering, her voice low and soft. Ashamed maybe, and she's blushing a little, as though she's admitting to something awful. But she still doesn't look at me.

"Oh" I murmur. Because I'm not sure what else I can say.

"Which is bullshit, utter fucking bullshit." She's biting at her bottom lip, fidgeting a little. Uncomfortable. But her voice is more confident now, a little louder.

"I know" I breathe. "I know." I silently will her to continue speaking, and after a moment, a shaking heartbeat, she does.

"And he asked me who else knows. And I told him that nobody knows. Then, then he was talking about Sonya" she scoffs disdainfully. "Asking if I'd told Sonya, I mean, as if, can you imagine? A cosy conversation about girls with my baby sister, no thanks." She shakes her head a little. "And even if I did tell her, there's no way, no way on earth, that she'd be able to keep her mouth shut at work, half the school would know in under an hour if I told her that I was...that I was, you know..." she trails off hopelessly, her eyes clouding over with hot tears.

"Seeing me?" I suggest quietly. And she almost laughs, shaking her head. I'm scared that the fat tears hovering in her eyes will start to trace wet lines over her cheeks. But they don't fall, not yet. Instead, her soaking wet hair tumbles over her shoulders, more little tiny drops over her thin white vest.

"No, gay." She says shortly.

"Oh." I touch my tongue to my lips. Unsure what to think, unsure what I should say to her. And run my eyes slowly over her face. The way her lips turn down a little at the corners, a tiny line between her eyebrows as she frowns. Tears still hanging dangerously in her eyes. "She doesn't know, she doesn't know you're gay?"

"No, I told you Nikki, I don't do this," she murmurs. Her bottom lip trembles, and for a fraction of a second, I'm scared. Scared that the tears welling in her eyes might fall. Scared about what she's going to say. Scared that whatever 'this' is, she's about to end it.

"So?" I murmur. My voice catching in the back of my throat as I speak. And she doesn't look at me, but I wish that she would.

"So, what am I going to do?" And suddenly she looks young, helpless. Scared maybe. And for once, she's definitely not in control.

"What are _we_ going to do, you mean." I murmur. I want her to know that we're in this together. And I want to hold her hand. God, I just want to hold her hand. But I don't. I watch her as she fiddles with her fingers, twisting them together nervously.

"Seriously Nikki, when Sonya finds out about this she'll...she'll...I don't even know, I don't want to think about it. And oh my god, Christine will kill me. She'll hate me, I mean, she already hates me, but now she'll hate me more and, and...I'm such a fucking hypocrite, and...and..." she gasps. Tears welling in her perfectly blue eyes. She bites too hard on her bottom lip, trying desperately to bite back her tears. And for the first time since I arrived, I touch her. My palm soft on her knee. Ready for some acid comment, ready for her to wriggle away from me, her eyes wide and shocked. But she doesn't. She looks up at me, and attempts to smile, but fails miserably. And I can feel it tugging at my heartstrings.

"Come here" I say softly, and she instantly snuggles a little closer to me across the cold leather sofa. I put my arm around her shoulder, and she leans against me a little. But her back is still poker straight, her hands twisted together in her lap. I can feel her breathing, a little quicker than my own. She smells of hot water and shampoo and tears. I rest my chin on her head, pulling her a little closer. "It'll be okay. It's no-one's business, no-one needs to know. If Michael's promised not to tell anyone, then nobody will find out, not if you don't want them to. You can trust him, can't you?" My voice soft, reassuring. Because I don't care if people find out about us, at least, I don't care nearly as much as she does.

"Yeah, yeah...I do trust him" she breathes. I smile. And she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, roughly brushing away her hot tears. I draw little circles over her back with my thumb. The muscles in her back and shoulders are knotted, tight. She's still stressed, worried, I can tell. "I do trust him, it's just-"

"It's just nothing. Babe, relax" I breathe. She looks up at me, lips slightly parted, cheeks still smudged with tears. Then she frowns a little.

"How can you say that, how the fuck can you say that?" She's angry suddenly, pulling away from me quickly, her hair flying around her face as she turns to face me. Tear-blurred eyes blazing. "How can you tell me to relax when the whole school might know about this by tomorrow morning? One wrong word from Michael tonight, and Christine will be making sure everyone knows about this!" She shakes her head. Angry, frustrated. Scared. I know that she's still scared, I can hear fear, thick in her voice. I take a deep breath in. And let it out, shaking a little. Attempting to keep my own temper, because I know that shouting at her will only make this far worse. "I've been so stupid" she breathes. Looking up at me. Her blue eyes icy, cold. Dripping with tears and blazing with barely-concealed anger. I can feel her take a deep breath in. And I'm not sure if she's angry at herself or at me. Maybe a mixture of the two, twisting together inside her head until she's not even sure of herself anymore. She breathes out slowly.

"Oh for fuck's sake" she whispers. A little tiny line pressing between her eyebrows. Her eyes flickering from my own, flying down to my lips. Slowly.

And then she kisses me. Lips hot, quick, wet with salty tears. Her tongue, rough, careless and she prises my lips apart. Both her hands suddenly on the back of my neck, pulling me closer to her. I can feel her breathing, tiny little breaths, her chest pressing against my own. I run my hands through her wet hair, sweeping it roughly out of her face and I kiss her back.

"Lo?" I frown, tearing my lips away from hers for almost a fraction of a second. Running my eyes rapidly over her face. Before she kisses me again. Once, her lips searching, desperate. Much too quick, too hurried. I like it. But I pull away again, leaving her gasping onto empty air instead of my lips. And finally she replies.

"What?" She gasps. Looking down, her fingers desperate. Quickly pulling off my t-shirt. And her nails are tight in my back.

"Do you wanna go to bed babe?" I breathe onto her lips. She shakes her head. Blonde, wet curls spilling over her chest. My hands gentle on her waist, pulling her close across the slippery leather.

"No, I'm good here" she laughs silently. Breathing a little quicker, laughter catching in the very back of her throat. Her eyes squeezed closed, kissing me again, oh god, she's kissing me. Kissing me beautifully, quickly, hotly. Scarlet red fireworks filling my veins, spilling through my blood. Because she's kissing me as though she wants me, as though she needs me. Maybe she does.


	17. Chapter 17

**I think that this categorically proves three things.**

**1. That I will do literally anything if you ask me enough times.**

**2. Peer pressure always works.**

**3. I can't write for shit.**

**Chapter 17**

**Lorraine's POV**

Dawn breaks. Clouds blushing pink, and mewling gulls circle above the tossing sea. And she's just learning to breathe again. I touch my tongue to my lips. And I smile at her as her eyes fly open.

"Jesus Christ" she gasps, looking at me. "Jesus Christ, you're good Lo" I watch her chest rise and fall as she tries to remember how to breathe. And I just laugh, and I kiss her. Running my fingers slowly through her dark hair, feeling her hot sweat clashing against my skin. She pulls me closer, until I'm sure she must be able to feel my heart racing. Because I can feel hers. She's smiling as she kisses me, mouth open, tongue soft. Teasing my eyes closed. I feel her fingertips tracing invisible lines down my spine, down the backs of my thighs. She lets me breathe, and then she kisses me again. Once, before I pull away from her, eyes flickering open.

"What time is it?" I whisper. Maybe she frowns a little, but she leans over me, reaching for her phone on the opposite side of the bed.

"Nearly five" I hear her phone clatter as she almost drops it back onto the table. I can't help but smile as I feel her soft touch on my waist once again. She's kissing me again, kissing my bottom lip, dropping more kisses along my jawline. Making my heart beat dizzyingly quickly. God, my own heartbeat, racing away from me. And suddenly, I want it to stop. I just want it all to stop. I want business meetings and clicking pen lids and a suit. I wouldn't even mind some middle-aged investor glancing down my shirt every time he spoke to me. Because then, I could spin them all around my little finger, and smile to make them dance. On strings. And because right now, I'm spiralling out of control. I'm out of my depth, so far out that I can't even remember what the shore looks like. And, god knows, I hate it. I hate the way it makes me feel. Sending my skin writhing into scared little goosebumps.

"No, no, I should sleep" I breathe, pulling away from her sharply. Somehow, the words don't sound the way I'd thought they would. They sound a little too cold, distant maybe. And she just looks at me, and nods.

"Yeah, of course, sorry" her voice is just a little too soft. And she's looking away from me now, moving a little. That smile fading from her lips.

"You can go home if you want" I whisper. And I watch her. Watch the way her eyes flicker with hot and then cold uncertainty. And suddenly, I wonder if I should tell her that I want her to stay. Because I want her to sleep with me. I want to hold her hand. And rest my head on her chest, and wake up to her slow breathing. That's what I want. But somehow, I nod. And I don't say a single word.

"Oh, okay" she breathes. I touch my tongue to my lips again.

"I'll see you later" I'm suddenly far too aware that I can still taste her, I can still feel the way her lips burnt against my own. She runs her eyes over me slowly, as I pull the sheets over my body slightly. Protective. And she nods once, sharply. A muscle in her jaw twitches a little as she bites back the words that scald against her tongue. Burning herself so she doesn't hurt me. I waver. Almost raising a hand to trace along her collarbones. But just as I go to move, she twists away from me. And then she's silently getting out of bed. Getting dressed quickly. I watch the way the muscles in her back tighten as she runs one hand through her messy hair. I feel as though I'm slowly losing something, and I can feel it being torn away from me. Little by little, peeling away from me. But I don't know how to stop her leaving. So I just watch her, and bite down on my bottom lip. Silent, still, scared. She's pulling on her shirt, her jacket, her fingers too quick with the buttons. Hurried, as though she can't wait to be away from me.

"I'll see you at work" she murmurs. It isn't a question, so I don't reply. I just pull the sheets a little higher over my chest as she turns to look at me. Her eyes tired, resigned maybe. I prop myself up a little on one elbow. She zips up her jacket, and starts to lean down towards me. Just a little, tiny tilt of her head. AS though she were about to kiss me. But I freeze, and I look away too quickly. Waves of panic washing over me once again. And she hovers at the side of my bed for a moment. "Okay, see you later." I can hear tight exasperation in her voice. But I don't say a word. She looks at me for one, long, final moment, and then she walks away. Leaving the bedroom door open, slightly ajar. So I can silently watch her as she roughly pulls on her converses, and fumbles with the lock on my front door.

"Nikki?" I murmur, wriggling a little so I can see her better, kneeling on the mattress, one hand still holding the hot sheets to my chest. For a second, she freezes, and she doesn't look at me. My heart flips over. And I repeat her name, stronger now. "Nikki?"

"Look, I'll see you later" she says. She doesn't look at me. And then she's gone, slamming my bedroom door behind her. I fall back, crashing back against the pillows, eyes blank, looking straight up at the ceiling. I run one hand through my hair, and wish that it could be different. I wish that I could be different. I wish it could be easy. I roll onto my chest, and check the time on my phone. Five in the morning. God. I should sleep, I know I should sleep. And I roll onto my back, resting the cool screen on my phone against the bare skin of my stomach. So that if she were to ring me, I'd wake instantly. But I know she's not going to. Because I have a remarkable talent of screwing it all up. Screwing her and then screwing her over. God, I know I won't sleep. But I still close my eyes.

* * *

"Morning Lorraine" Michael looks up at me sharply as I push open the office door. I look at him abruptly, frowning.

"Oh, morning" I shrug a little, and carefully close the office door behind myself.

"I called you last night"

"My phone was off, sorry, what did you want to talk about?" One tone. Careful, businesslike. Entirely emotionless. I walk briskly towards my desk, tossing blonde curls over my shoulders, feeling him watching me. I sling my bag onto my desk, and sit in my high-backed cream leather chair. And spin a little, so I'm looking straight at him. He's got his elbows resting lightly on the black glass of his desk, his fingertips just touching together.

"Look, you and Nikki-"

"Michael, last time I looked, that really is none of your business."

"It is when you're...when you're on school premises. And when you're constantly on my back about my relationship with Christine." He's frowning. A little angry. I seem to be good at making people angry this morning. I breathe through my nose.

"It's my school Michael. My school. In fact, I don't have to talk to you about this at all." I roughly pull out my phone, and a random file of paperwork, and I push my bag from the desk, listening to it clattering to the floor. I stare blankly at the paper for a fraction of a second. And then I clear my throat a little. I pretend to nonchalantly turn the page. My hand shakes, maybe it shakes, and I bite down on my tongue. Tilt my head to one side. But I don't look at him. "Did you mention it to Christine at all?" I say. As though it doesn't matter. As though my heart isn't hammering.

"No" he says quietly.

"Umm...I'd be grateful if you could keep it that way" I say, my voice a little softer now.

"Okay. I'm not the one to broadcast other people's private lives all over the staffroom. Last time I looked, that was you." His voice is cold, and I gasp a little, as though it froze me. But I try my hardest to not let my thoughts show on my face. He looks at me. And I look straight back at him. Unwavering.

* * *

I pause for a fraction of a second outside the door of the corridor leading to the PRU. My hand hovering above the tarnished metal of the door handle. Not quite ready for that sharp collision, cold metal against my hot, nervous palm. I bite down on my bottom lip, and grit my teeth. And I open the door. And stride, head up, easily confident, down the narrow corridor.

"Hey Nikki" I say, pushing open the door to the room quickly. Before I lose my nerve. While I can still hold my head high and bite back my pride. What's left of it. She's sitting at her desk, head down. I take a step towards her, and then another. The back of her neck pale, a tiny red scratch marring her skin. And, I suddenly realise, I left that scratch there as I screamed her name the night before. The thought makes me feel shaky inside. I dig my nails into my palms.

"Yeah?" Her voice is a little too rough. And she doesn't move, and she doesn't even look at me. I bite down on my bottom lip.

"You're angry?"

"No"

"You are."

"I just wish I knew what you wanted. I wish I could be what you wanted."

"I'm really sorry Nikki. I'm sorry I'm such a..."

"Such a confusing fuck-up, yeah." She looks down at her marking. Ticking the thin exercise book a little too violently. Almost ripping the cheap paper.

"Yeah" I murmur. Scared I've said the wrong thing. Because she's sighing. I watch her as she mimics me, balling her hands into tight fists, digging her short nails into her palms. Knuckles white, her shoulders tight, annoyed. Carving miniature, hot half-moon shapes on her skin. "Nikki?" I breathe. No reaction. She doesn't even look at me. "Nikki?" I repeat her name again. She sighs, and I watch her shoulders as they fall. Then she turns around to look at me. Something hard behind her eyes seems to melt as she looks at me. She takes a deep breath in.

"For god's sake Lorraine. Make your fucking mind up." She snaps. I just look at her for a moment.

"I'm sorry." I breathe. She shakes her head a little.

"What do you want? Do you want to just screw me all night and then make me leave? Or do you want to talk to me and trust me and sleep with me?"

"I'm sorry" I repeat. Like a scratched, broken record. I hate the way she's looking at me. As though I've disappointed her. "I'm really sorry Nikki." I breathe softly. She rolls her eyes. But I take a slow, careful step towards her. Crossing my arms across my chest. For a moment I think about leaning against her desk. But I don't.

"You really don't get it, do you?" She frowns.

"What?" I murmur.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I don't care that you're sorry. I just want you to talk to me" her voice is soft suddenly, and she's very nearly begging me.

"You say that like it's easy, like I'm good at talking" I breathe. Looking up at the ceiling so I don't have to look at her.

"I normally can't shut you up" she shrugs. Her voice a little louder now, I think she's slowly walking towards me.

"Look, okay, I know I'm...shit at this." I breathe. She looks up at me.

"Yeah, you are a bit" she says. Not coldly. But there's no emotion in her voice. None. I try to breathe normally.

"But we're okay, me and you? I mean, I'll try harder, I'll take you out to dinner tonight, if you want? And we could talk then?" I think I sound desperate, no, in fact, I know that I sound desperate. But I really don't care. I just want us to be okay. "Please Nikki?"

"You don't have to" she's shaking her head, and looking away from me. Her voice a little softer now.

"I want to" I frown, tilting my chin down, trying to catch her eye. She still doesn't look up at me. I sigh, spreading out my hands helplessly, palms to the heavens. The air in the classroom all suddenly seems to be tighter. Clogging up my lungs, making my head spin a little. I look down to the floor, and watch as it spins a little. I breathe in, and then out.

"Okay then" she murmurs.


	18. Chapter 18

**Guys. Look new chapter. It's short. And rubbish, sorry about that. I would've written more but my boyfriend is doing this abused-puppy thing via text and guilt tripping me about how neglected he is, so blame this bullshit on him. And I'm a little drunk but we're not mentioning that, okay?**

**Also, just letting you know that I'm only updating today because SOME BITCH (lol, I don't know who you are) sent me like a trillion peer-pressure-y reviews and they sent me email alerts and I was out and then my phone just blew up wow. (All my friends thought I was popular it was amazing) And I feel bad cos I won't be able to write any more of this until at least Sunday, as I'm away.**

**Again, sorry.**

**Chapter 18**

**Nikki's POV**

"So, come on, where are we going? You were being so secretive earlier, I didn't know what I should wear" I ask her, sliding into the taxi beside her.

"It's a surprise" she pouts at me as I slam the door and the driver starts to pull away from the kerb, and then she smiles. "And you look great." She says, and she's quickly running her pale eyes over my perfectly white shirt, collar open, cuffs lose. Top three buttons undone. And a tight fitted black jacket. Slim, pointed shoes.

"You too." I glance quickly over her outfit, but I can't see much through the shadows in the back of the cab. I can see she's wearing red. Knee-length, intricate wine-red lace. Strapless, so she's all curving collarbones and smooth shoulder blades and twisting tendons. No jewellery, no minute silver chain slithering around her neck. Just endless pale skin. She's wearing her hair up, twisted at the base of her neck, a strand or two already falling lose, curling down to her chin and framing her face. "You look really gorgeous." I murmur. Because it's true, and I don't really know what else I can say to her.

"Cheers babe." She nods a little.

"And where's the flash car?" I smile, nudging her with my elbow.

"I don't want to drive, I want to be able to enjoy myself." She replies quickly. Too quickly, maybe? I don't know.

"Aww, damn, I was looking forwards to a ride in it" I grin at her, and suddenly she's smiling right back, looking up at me. Red lipstick, she's wearing hot red lipstick, and she's biting at her lips as she smiles. God, she's so hot.

"Surprisingly enough, my driving doesn't improve when I'm drunk." She leans closer to me, as though, just maybe, she's about to kiss me. But no, she pulls away quickly, and just glances up at me instead. But she's closer to me now, too close. I wonder if I should kiss her, or put my arm around her maybe, but I don't. And besides, I can smell sharp alcohol on her breath.

"Have you been drinking already?" I ask her softly. She looks down suddenly, glancing at the clutch bag she's balancing on her knees, her short nails fiddling with the clasp.

"No. No, well, okay, I just had one before I came out, and that's hardly a crime, is it?" she's sharp, defensive suddenly.

"Didn't say it was, I'm not your mum, am I?" I tilt my chin down, lips parted a little. Because I want to kiss her. And she looks up at me, her eyes wide, flickering all over my face with a clarity that makes me sure that she really did only have one drink. But she's twisting away from me, her neck pale in the cool moonlight spilling through the windows. Shadows hanging under her chin, and her cheekbones, and more shadows creeping under her collarbones.

"Don't." She breathes. So quietly that I barely hear her. But then she wriggles further away from me across the slippery leather seat.

"What?" I frown at her, confused.

"You'll smudge my lipstick" she hisses sharply, frowning. But her eyes are flickering towards the back of the driver's head, then to his rear-view mirror. But he isn't looking at us. I shake my head a little, and look away from her. She sighs, and crosses her arms. She's still frowning.

"Oh, come on Lo, don't be like this" I say, pleading with her. She looks away, and tilts her chin up. And then she sighs, and wriggles a bit, adjusting her dress a little. Spreading the hot red lace over her knees, looking down at it. Fiddling with the hemline now. Damn, I wish she'd stop fiddling and hold my hand.

"I'm sorry, and I'm sorry I'm always apologising. I don't know why you bother with me you know. I'm a shitty date and I know it." She's trying too hard to keep her voice businesslike, brisk. But it isn't really working. Maybe she's trying too hard.

"Don't be. You look wonderful and we're going to have a great evening and please, please just relax, yeah?"

"Yeah" she smiles now, properly. And then she reaches out, across the endless space of hot and cold leather between us, and she holds my hand tightly. Her eyes flicker down, to our hands, and then back up to meet my gaze. She tilts her head to one side, her eyes dark and wide through the shadows. I just nod a little to her, reassuring her with a smile. I watch her in silence as she breathes, in and then out, and then smiles.

"Can you tell me where we're going now?" I ask her, and she jabs me in the ribs with her elbow, mock-annoyed now.

"No! I can't! It'll be a surprise and it will be nice. This is me, playing nice, okay?"

"What if I hate it, do I still have to pretend to be pleased?"

"Yes, absolutely." She says seriously as she wriggles closer to me, and puts her hand loosely around my waist, pulling me towards her. I laugh, and I lightly kiss the top of her head.

* * *

"Lorraine, seriously?" I take a step away from her.

"Aww, come on Nikki," she's pouting at me. She's drunk, and I'm drunk, and it's dark in the street. A few metres away, there's a golden pool of light, but we're standing in the dark. Tiny hints of light reflected in her eyes. "I just want a kiss" she murmurs, stepping towards me, her heels clicking on the tarmac road. Her eyes appealing as she takes another step towards me.

"But 'people might see'" I imitate her tone lightly. And she giggles.

"We don't know anyone here, it doesn't matter. That's why I wanted to come here, it's a good idea, right?" She slurs, holding both my hands.

"What about if Michael and Christine had exactly the same genius idea?"

"I don't give a fuck" she whispers. So tilt my chin down, and I kiss her, once. Her lips rough, hot. They taste of the red wine we've been drinking. And then I pull away from her. Resting my forehead against hers. Our lips still barely millimetres apart. "Urgh, Nick, that wasn't even a kiss" she whines, her eyes still closed. She snakes her arms around my neck, in one hand she's still holding her clutch bag, and her other hand on the back of my neck. And she's standing on her very tip-toes, tipping forwards. Millimetres taller suddenly. Her lips hovering over my own.

"Yes it was." I say. I can taste her hot breath.

"Come on, kiss me again. One more." Her voice is slurred. In the restaurant, I hadn't realised how drunk she was. Or maybe she didn't start slurring until the cool night air was clashing against her skin. I don't care. I just rest my hands carefully on her waist, and I kiss her. I kiss the very corner of her mouth, then run my tongue along her bottom lip. I can taste her lipstick. And then I kiss her again, her lips quicker now.

She pulls away slowly. She looks down, tracing her fingertips over my neck, and down to the loose collar of my shirt. She grasps it tight in her fists, and bends her head a little to kiss my neck. Once, and she pulls away slowly. And I run my hands carefully over her arms, nails gentle as she kisses me again. I can feel goosebumps wriggling over her skin, she's cold. Silently, and without tearing my lips away from hers, I pull of my black jacket.

"Here, don't argue, just put it on" I breathe. She doesn't move, so I wrap it carefully around her shoulders.

"Thanks" she murmurs. And pulls her phone from her clutch bag, glancing down at the screen. Her face suddenly lit up in the bright white glow. "Damn where's this bloody cab?"

"I don't know babe" I breathe.

"We could walk, it's not far back to mine" she suggests. I raise my eyebrows.

"You're drunk, and those heels are at least six inch. You'll break an ankle, we'll wait for the cab, it's fine." I say. She rolls her eyes.

"I won't. I won't break an ankle." She slurs. And kisses me. Hands rough on my collar, pulling my body closer to hers. "Come on, let's go home." She whispers. Slowly drawing tiny love-hearts on my chest with her fingertips. I smile as I kiss her again, her lips open, her tongue soft. Her eyes gently closed.

"Okay. If you break yourself, don't blame me tomorrow, okay?"

"Deal." She whispers against my lips. And kisses me.

"Look, are we going to stay here all night, snogging like a pair of teenagers, or are we going back to yours?" I ask her quietly. She smiles, I feel her smile as she kisses the corner of my mouth carefully, once, and then again.

"Come on then" she breathes. And she holds her hand out to me. I ignore it, and wrap one arm around her shoulders as we walk. She leans against me a little, raising both hands and pulling her hair loose, suddenly sending it spilling all over her shoulders, over the ebony blackness of my jacket. So pale that it almost seems to glow through the darkness.

She crosses her arms quickly across her chest, tugging my jacket tighter around her body. And then she frowns into the empty darkness, patting at the pockets of my jacket, and then she shakes her head quickly, and unclasps her clutch.

"I want a cigarette" she murmurs.

"You smoke?" I ask her in surprise. She rolls her eyes

"Not properly, just sometimes. Sometimes I smoke, yeah" she murmurs. "When I'm too drunk to know better, or too sad to care."

And suddenly, I feel as though all the light of the stars has been pulled away. And the sky seems to darken, as though heavy clouds were looming overhead. I shiver a little, and I part my lips. Ready to ask her why she's sometimes too sad to care. But then she's holding her clutch open, so I can see there's no packet of cigarettes there.

"But look, unlucky me. No cigarettes." She sighs, and smiles a little. "I'll have to wait till I get home." She slurs. But her voice is light, happy. And suddenly I can breathe normally again. And the darkness overhead seems to fade away. Leaving only glowing moonlight and cold stars, and the cold tarmac pavement.

"Really? Cos I've got other plans for when I get you home" I grin. Expensive wine loosening my tongue, clinging to the roof of my mouth.

"I think that cigarette could wait a little bit longer then" she smiles, and then she twists around towards me, kissing my jawline quickly as we walk. I tilt my head towards her as she kisses me again, her lips soft.

"Are you leaving lipstick marks?" I murmur, and she raises a hand, wiping a single finger across my skin.

"It's all gone" she breathes. And then she kisses me again. I unwrap my arm from around her shoulders, and hold her hand tightly instead as she wobbles a little on the kerb, slightly unsteady on her high heels.

"Careful" I whisper, pulling her a little closer to me, away from the edge of the road. She looks up at me, and squeezes my hand a little tighter. And she smiles.

**Lorraine's POV**

She follows me into the flat. And slams the door behind herself. It's dark, cold. I forgot to turn the heating on. She's kicking off her shoes, walking away from me. But I stand still, my back straight against the cool plaster of the wall. Tipping my head back just to feel the world spin dangerously below me. I'm drunk and I like it. I like the way that nothing matters right now, and I like the way my head spins. The way words can just drip from my alcohol-laced tongue, as though it's easy. And I like the way she looks at me. Her eyes quick and complacent, confident as they skim over my body.

"You okay love?" She asks me confidently, as she flicks on the lights and walks into the open-plan kitchen. "Do you want me to put the kettle on, or wine, or..."

"Come here." I interrupt her quickly. She glances up at me, and tilts her head to one side. Opens her mouth a little, as though she were going to ask me sharply what I wanted. But then she closes her mouth, and walks towards me once again. I'm silent. There's still a little over a metre of screaming space between us. I wish that she'd take another step towards me, but she doesn't. She just leans back against the back of the sofa and looks at me.

"Yeah, what?" She says quietly.

"Come here"

She takes another step. I reach out towards her, my fingertips grasping onto empty air of a brief, shattering moment. And then they collide with the thick, stiff material of her collar. Roughly I pull her a little closer. Her hands on the wall, either side of my hips. I tilt my chin to one side, as her lips hover over my own. She hesitates. Breathes in. Her lips shaping soundless, meaningless words through the empty space.

"Just fucking kiss me" I whisper. So she does.


	19. Chapter 19

**Look. Sex. Sex is good, but please don't read this if you're a child. And if you're going to be offended, I strongly suggest that you leave now and go get a life. (It's not explicit, like at all though.)**

**You're not allowed to judge me.**

**In fact, it's a free country and you are allowed to judge me. Whatever. Cheers for like the reviews and that.**

**(This chapter is bullshit, sorry I didn't proof-read.)**

**Chapter 19**

**Lorraine's POV**

I tug at the buttons of her shirt. Impatient, too hurried. Already breathless. And with shaking hands, I try to pull her shirt away from her body. Tearing my lips away from hers for an instant, so she can just gasp for air. Her eyes closed. "God you're hot" I breathe. I feel her laugh, her fingertips skating slowly over my sides. Fingertips running along the hot red lace of my dress. She takes her time. I just grab her collar, and pull off her shirt.

"Do you want to slow down?" She laughs, running both her hands slowly through my hair, sweeping my curls away from my neck so she can kiss along my collarbones. I shake my head quickly. Sending a few stray curls tumbling back across my chest.

"No. I want..." I look up, eyes barely focusing on the shadowy ceiling. Because she's kissing along my neck. Her lips quick, soft, everywhere. I'm sure she can feel my heartbeat, colliding against my ribcage just a little too hard, too fast.

"What do you want, baby?" she murmurs, her lips still against my flesh. Goosebumps. Hot breath and cold night air. And then I feel her teeth, pressing lightly into my skin. And I gasp. Struggling to slow my breathing.

"I want you to fuck me." The words wrenched from the back of my throat. My lips barely moving to shape the slurred words. And I suddenly blush, because I didn't want it to sound like that. But she grins. Bottom lip between her teeth. She tilts her head to one side. And moves away from me, holding my hands. I shake my head, and pull her back towards me.

"Here?" she murmurs, surprised. Both her hands on my waist, gentle, pulling my body closer to hers. Both my hands on the back of her neck as I kiss her messily again. My lips lose, tongue rough because I'm drunk and I don't care.

"Yeah" I gasp. And she spins me around as though it's easy, her hands on my back, fiddling with the many tiny buttons that run down the back of my skin-tight dress. She kisses my neck, slowly working her way along the curves of my pale shoulders. And she slowly undoes the buttons, and she pulls the fabric away from my skin. Kissing my shoulder blades, her teeth carefully meeting my back. And then she bites me again softly. She might leave marks, tiny little bruises pressing into my skin. And I don't care. I breathe, slowly, through my teeth. I breathe slowly as she undresses me. And I breathe slowly as she kisses me gently. Kissing every inch of my skin. And she finally pulls off my dress completely, down over my hips, and it falls down to the floor. She runs her fingertips over my sides as she spins me quickly back around to face her. Tracing the outline of my ribs. Her touch so, so soft as she caresses me. I close my eyes and run my nails through her hair, and she kisses my lips again. And she pins me roughly, carelessly back against the wall. Her lips tracing tiny lines down my neck. Working her way down, with deliberate care. Over my collarbones. Leaving me gasping for air I know I'll never find. My senses heightened as though she's moving in slow motion, giving me an intoxicating amount of time to feel her every movement. And my head is frighteningly blurred. Because I can feel her fingers, tracing over the outline of my breasts. Her body soft, her hands gentle. My hips. Her hands hovering over my hips. Her nails short. And she's fumbling a little as she pulls down my underwear. My nails digging deeper into the back of her neck. Hot anticipation dripping over my skin. I gasp as she touches my inner thigh, fingertips teasing my skin. My eyes squeezed closed. Too tightly. One finger. I bite back a moan.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god-" I whisper.

"Breathe" she whispers. One word. And she repeats it softly. "Babe, breathe." So I do. I breathe. As though it's easy. As though it's the most natural thing in the world. And I can feel the hot air rush from my lungs. I can feel my chest fall, shuddering a little. And she giggles softly. My eyes are closed, but I know that if I were to open them, she'd be smiling. She moves her hand. I gasp a little. Creating wordless shapes against her lips. And then she's kissing me again. Brushing my sweaty hair out of my face. And silently, she goes harder. Two fingers. I twist back, throwing my head back against the hard plaster of the wall. She tries to kiss me, her lips searching, soft. I bite down on her lips, too hard. She's moving too fast. I can feel myself beginning to lose control. But I can't breathe. I can't speak. And so I just sweat and choke back my moans.

"Nikki-" I gasp. Teetering dangerously close to the edge. My chest heaving. I gasp. Before my words are almost swallowed by a hot wave of pleasure. And I'm moaning. Nails digging too deeply into her shoulders. Popping, fizzing waves of burning ecstasy. Over and over and over. And over. And she's kissing me. Softly, as though she loves me. God, I wish with every blurred, glowing vein in my body that she does.

**Nikki's POV**

I stride into the staffroom, unceremoniously throwing my bag onto one of the chairs and smiling a little at Tom and Audrey, who look up at me. Christine doesn't, she doesn't even look up at me, her eyes fixed down at her marking. And, for Lorraine's sake, I feel a little nervous.

"Morning" I mumble to them, already glancing over at Lorraine. As though I'll never be able to look at her enough. Both her elbows resting on the desk, her head of perfect blonde curls propped against her palm. Her back tense, head down. She's hungover and she's stressed and she's tired, I know she is. And there's nothing I can do. Not now.

"Does anyone want a coffee or something?" I say to the room in general. My eyes flickering from Lorraine, to Tom, and then back to Lorraine once again. I breathe in, and then out.

"Yeah, go on, tea please" Tom glances up at me from his mountain of marking, smiling a little grimly at me. The others don't reply. So I just turn away, hands in pockets, as though I don't care. And I pass Lorraine on my way to the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee?" I murmur, softly as I lean against the table. Chin down, looking at her carefully. There're a moment's pause, as she idly moves her pen, making some illegible mark on the file she's reading, and then she glances up at me.

"Yeah, yeah that's be great Nikki" she's smiling up at me quietly, her voice low. I nod once and walk away. Keeping my distance, keeping it cool, professional. Somehow running one hand softly over her shoulders as I leave. Accidentally, maybe accidentally. Feeling her tight muscles relax a little under my light touch. And then, too late of course, much too late, I realise that Christine's eyes are suddenly fixed on us both. I drop my hands to my side as though her pale, flowered Stella McCartney jacket burnt my skin. I'd watched her as she slipped on that jacket, pulling it over her shoulders and glancing at herself critically in the full length mirrors lining her walk-in wardrobe. And then she'd asked me if it looked too "sexed-up." And I'd laughed at her, and said nothing, just wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her behind her ear, softly.

But now I walk away from Lorraine, impartial, cool. Back straight, shoulders down. Confident, with both hands stuffed back into my pockets. And I silently make Tom a cup of tea. And I make her a coffee. But I can still feel Christine's critical gaze scorching my back. I just pray to god that Lorraine can't feel it too.

"Do you want a hand over there Nikki?" Christine says.

"No, I'm fine, do you want one?" I ask. I don't look at her. My voice is cool. Chillingly cool. And now I can feel Lorraine's eyes fixed to my back too. I don't want to look at her either, I'm scared her eyes will be burning with hot fear.

"No. Thank you." She says, shortly. I drop the teaspoon into Lorraine's coffee with a clatter. Metal on the thick china of the mug. I swear silently, and I fish it out with my fingertips, scalding hot coffee pressing against my skin. I drop it, still dripping onto the counter.

"Here" I hand it to Lorraine, and pass Tom his cup of tea. Lorraine doesn't look at me. Tom smiles gratefully as he takes a sip. And then he screws up his face, swallowing the scalding hot liquid and raising his eyebrows at me.

"Urgh, Nikki, how much milk did you put in this?" he coughs, disgusted, laughing at me gently. I raise from my chair again quickly, and take the mug out of his hand.

"God, I'm sorry, hold on, I'll make you another. I'd forgotten that you only like a teeny bit of milk" I frown, silently wishing that Christine would stop looking at me like that. Critical. As though she's over-analysing my every move. I busy myself with making Tom another drink.

"That was absent-minded of you Nikki" she says. Her voice cold, mocking. Calculating. I feel my hands beginning to shake. If she's got something to say, why doesn't she just say it?

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired and not thinking straight" I say, shaking my head. And I don't even have to lie, because it's true. I am tired. And I'm not thinking straight. I keep cool. But I can practically feel Lorraine's cheeks burning as she blushes. But I don't want to turn to look at her. More ammunition for Christine.

"Hot date last night?"

"No. No I just had a lot of marking. Remember, my free lessons have been cut too" I say, and I force a short giggle, as though the idea of me having a date is simply laughable. And I turn to Tom again, passing him his drink. "Here, this is better, sorry" I say quickly. And I grab my bag from my seat and turn away. I don't even wait to hear Tom's murmured thanks. And I don't hesitate when Lorraine glances up at me, lips parting. I'm already gone.

* * *

"I need a word Nikki" I look up at the sharp, cutting sound of her voice. And she strides towards where I'm sitting with Tom, the staffroom door slamming behind her. Her blonde curls falling down her back, her pale eyes blazing.

"Looks like someone's in trouble" Tom laughs, and I laugh too. Forcing it from the dry back of my throat. And I don't look at him. My eyes are fixed on her face, trying to read something there, anything. But there's nothing there. I don't know what to think, so I bite down on my bottom lip and follow her from the staffroom. Into the deserted corridor beyond. Her heels clicking, her hips swaying as she walks a little too quickly. I watch her, and I follow her. But suddenly, beside the lockers, she stops.

"She knows" She rounds on me. Eyes burning. Lips tight. A frown cutting through her face. Her voice tight, upset. I look at her.

"What?" I say quietly. My voice calm.

"Christine. Don't look so surprised. I heard her in the staffroom earlier. Every-fucking-one heard her in the staffroom earlier." She's looking away from me, as though she's disgusted, and she can't even look at me. As though it's somehow my fault.

"Don't swear. Don't swear here." I hiss. That's all. I don't justify what I said, I don't apologise. She turns away from me. "Lorraine-" I reach out, and I grab her arm carefully. Still gentle, as though I could break her if I held on too tight.

"Nikki. How? How does she know? Is it that bloody obvious that we've...that we've been..." she takes a deep breath in, but doesn't finish the sentence before I cut her off.

"No! No, of course it isn't!" I say quickly.

"Then why's she, why's she being like that then?" she hisses, pointing back towards the staffroom door. I roll my eyes.

"Lorraine, look, stop. Don't worry about it. Just don't." I say, my hand on the sleeve of her jacket as I take a step towards her. I'm not going to kiss her, god knows I'm not going to kiss her. But I just want to be a little bit closer to her.

"Am I just being paranoid?" She murmurs, and I nod and smile reassuringly. Even though I'm not entirely sure myself.

"Yeah, yeah I think you are" I say softly, nudging her a little as she crosses her arms and leans back against the lockers, smiling up at me. If I could kiss her right now, I would. And I hover, temptation leading me on, pulling me magnetically towards her.

And then a voice cuts through the tight silence.

"Afternoon Nikki, Lorraine. This looks cosy." Christine smiles with her lips, but it doesn't nearly meet her eyes. And her eyes are flickering from my hand on Lorraine's arm to the space between our bodies. Not nearly enough space. Then back to my hand. Then her eyebrows raise a little. Creating wrinkles of skin, skidding across her forehead. And she continues walking, striding past us into the staffroom.

Lorraine looks down to the floor. Her lips grasped between her teeth. "Shit." I breathe. My voice low. Dropping my hand to my side. My heart drops too. And I'm moving too late, again.

"Double shit." Lorraine hisses.


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm not going to lie, I wrote some (not all) of this when I was a little drunk. Shall we play "let's spot where Lizzie attempted to write after a couple of cocktails"?**

**It's shit, but please don't judge me. I'm sorry.**

**Love you all so much, and thank you for the like reviews and things. I don't think that I thank you all enough.**

**Also, after tonight's episode I'm still not sure if they're actually fucking of if they're both just getting off on the unbelievable levels of sexual tension like of Lorraine were to eyefuck Nikki any harder I'm damn sure she'd have to have her at least semi-naked across a desk.**

**I'll shut up now.**

**Night.**

**Chapter 20**

"She knows, god knows, she knows Nikki. Baby, I'm telling you, she knows." She's pacing through my office. Up and down, up and down. Like a caged in animal, prowling along the fence. Trapped inside, looking out.

"Lo-"

"I don't want to have to think about this, please, I don't want this to be happening." She raises both her hands to cover her eyes, blacking out the world. But she's still careful not to smudge her immaculate makeup.

"Lorraine, please..." I murmur, as I stand and walk towards her. Raising my hands too, and scraping her hair out of her eyes with my fingertips. For a fraction of a second she looks up at me. Dazzling, dizzying blue eyes, clear, her pupils a little dilated maybe. And then she interrupts me too quickly, looking away from me and speaking rapidly. No more eye contact. I drop my hands to my sides and I breathe out, and watch her carefully as she speaks.

"No, I'm serious Nikki, I mean, it's one thing Michael knowing, I mean, I know him, I trust him. I think...I think he understands. But her...how will you feel when we're the main topic of conversation in the staffroom? Or the students, Jesus Christ, what if the kids find out?" Her voice shakes, and she's looking down at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap. I wish I could say something to make it all okay, but I don't know what. I don't even think there is anything I can say, and she's scared, and I hate it.

"You don't know, you don't know for sure that she'll tell them. I mean, what does she even know?" I keep my voice deliberately calm, cool. Trying to be reasonable, when really, I'm a worried too. Because I can't help but think if people find out about this, about what has been going on with the pair of us, then she might leave me.

"We were practically kissing." She sighs, wringing her hands together, looking so sad. "At the very least, it wasn't professional, and at the worst, at the bloody worst...oh god." She's walking away from me.

"At the worst, it was obvious...that something is going on..." I murmur. And I watch as her shoulders fall a little. She walks away from me, her back to me, to the other side of the room. I think it's five paces, or a little more. And now all I can see is her slim waist and her tight shoulders and her hair curling and cascading all down her back.

"I can't do this Nikki. I feel ill." She turns to look at me, and she's got one hand on her stomach, the other clutching into a fist. Knuckles white, her head down. As though she might actually be physically sick. I follow her across the room, and I hold her face in the cool palms of my hands. And then I run the palm of one hand down, along her gently sloping shoulders.

"Lorraine" I murmur her name softly, because I honestly don't know what else to say. My voice shakes a little. Is this it? Is she going to end this, whatever this is?

"You know, all my life, all my entire fucking life, I've been in control. Completely in control, it all happens when I want, how I want. And now, look at me."

"No, Lorraine..."

"No, I'm serious. It's all in her hands. She could tell them all, and I'd be done. I'm a hypocrite and a...a...I really don't think I could cut it if people find out."

"Please, don't say that..."

"It's like I can still feel her looking at me, my skin's crawling, and she had that goddamn smug grin on her face. She knows, I'm sure. I knew since this morning, I heard her, going on at you like that. You can't tell me I'm being paranoid, I'm not. Oh god, why does she have to be so smug about this?" She says rapidly, breathing quickly. Sharp breaths interrupting her speak. Her voice serious, hurried. She glances up at me, obviously wanting some response. She wants me to contradict her maybe. I don't know. I just shrug, and I shake my head a little. My throat too dry, because I can feel her nervous energy radiating from her skin.

"I don't know what I can say" I mumble. She just clenches her jaw and looks away from me too quickly.

"Me neither." She breathes. "I just keep on going over and over it, everything." Her eyes flicker closed and she frowns, as though she really can see it flashing past behind her lids. I can see it all too. My hand on her arm. Our bodies too close for it to be purely professional. Maybe too close to be friendly. Intimately close perhaps. Add to that Lorraine promoting me without consulting Michael, my hand on Lorraine's back. Christine is many things, but she's not stupid. She knows what she saw.

"Lorraine" I say softly, just her name. Pleading with her maybe. But I don't even know what I'm begging for. She takes a deep breath in, chest rising a little. Breathes out. Her eyes are still closed. Is this it? Is this when she ends it? I clasp my hands together in my lap, so she can't see them shaking. I tilt my chin up a little, ready for the blow. Her eyes are still closed. Maybe she won't even look at me as she ends this.

"I'm going to see him." Five words. She spits them quickly. Distain and distaste dripping from her sweet tongue.

"Who?" I ask quickly, realising my voice is a little blurred by surprise. Relief maybe. There's a tone of relief there, but she doesn't notice.

"Michael."

"Is that a good idea?" A little shocked, a little dismayed.

"It's the best I can think of right now." She sighs, shaking her head. "And he promised me. Nikki, he bloody looked me in the eye and he promised me that he wouldn't tell anyone. And now look. He must've told her. I'm sure he did."

"Oh...okay..." I nod quickly. Clasping my hands together, and then pulling them apart again. "I...do you want me to come with you?"

"I'm a big girl, I can talk to him on my own. Can I call you later?"

"Of course" I smile. She looks up at me. All blue eyes and soft blonde curls and a frown cutting across her face. And I really want to kiss her, but she nods sharply. And turns away, grabbing her jacket from my desk, where she'd thrown it earlier. I don't say anything, I just flop down into my chair, and prop my fingers together. And I watch, breathless, as she leaves.

**Lorraine's POV**

I push the door open. And he's there, sitting at his desk. Head down, looking at his computer screen. A frown hovers between his eyebrows, and it deepens when he looks up at me. I take a deep breath in, and I close the door behind myself. Carefully. I'm glad Sonya isn't in the office. I'm glad she doesn't need to listen to this.

"You told her?" I'm surprised how cool, how calm my voice is. Internally, I'm trembling. Externally, the facade is maybe just beginning to crack. Hairline fractures, almost invisible, streaming across my skin. I think my palms sweat a little, but I'm not sure.

"What?"

"You told Christine, about..." I take a deep breath in. I try to clear my head. But I can't think straight, I can't think at all. I just dig my nails into my palms and breathe through my nose. I didn't think it was going to be easy, but I never thought I'd have to force the words from my tongue like this, as though they're trying to cling to my tongue. Making it nearly impossible for me to speak. Another breath in. He's still looking at me intently, frown fixed in place. I feel a little as though I were a child again, hauled into his office after I'd been caught smoking. I touch my tongue to my lips, tilt my chin up and continue speaking as though this is easy. "You told her about my relationship with Nikki? You told her?"

And he doesn't even try to lie to me. "Yes." I glance down. I breathe out. I feel as though I have been kicked in the ribs. But I keep my chin up.

"Why?" One word is all I can manage.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Did it just come up in conversation over the breakfast table? It's my personal life, Michael. My private life. And you promised me-"

"Oh, come on Lorraine, Nikki's promotion was a joke! It's obvious you only promoted her, without consulting me at all, because you were having a relationship with her!" He's laughing, incredulous, as though this is some kind of joke, as though it doesn't matter. And I'm angry now, I'm tired and I'm scared and I react the only way I know how to.

"WE WEREN'T!" I spin around to face him, shouting now as I slam my hand onto his desk. "Not then, we weren't together, okay? Not then."

"But you must've been influenced for your feelings towards her. There are many more senior, experienced members of staff at Waterloo Road-"

"Like Christine?" I cut him off abruptly. And I'm pacing up and down the office.

"I'm not going to deny it, yes, Christine would have been a far more suitable candidate, if you didn't want to advertise externally-"

"Now who's letting their personal feelings get in the way, influence their decisions? I did what I thought was best!"

"Best for who? For your relationship or for the school?" His voice is cold. Full of something I don't even recognise.

That's it. That's the real kick in the ribs. He knows all my insecurities and he's playing with them, one by one. Testing me, seeing how far he can wind me up before I snap. And I gulp. And I bite my bottom lip between my teeth until it burns. Until it feels as though I'm moments away from drawing blood. Until I'm teetering on the edge of control. Until I'm angry and I'm scared and I'm reckless. Too blunt. My tongue thick with real fear.

"I need to know I can trust you Michael, because I need to make big changes to the financing of this school. I need to know I can trust you."

"Is it really all about the money with you Lorraine? Promoting your girlfriend because you don't know how else to show her how much you care? Pay her more and then she might like you?" I don't look at him as he speaks. But his voice is cold. I feel the minute hairs stand up on my arms. And his words cut right through my body. I can feel them, razor sharp, slicing through me as though my concrete walls and icy protection are nothing. And it's worse, it's so much worse, because I know that it's true.

"I'm introducing fees. Parents will pay to send their children here." Somehow my voice hasn't changed. I'm falling apart, and my voice is soft, confident. I'm almost smiling as I watch his face, watch for his reaction.

"What?" He sounds incredulous. Outraged.

"Waterloo Road is a private school. Pupils will have to pay to attend."

"That's it? That's the grand plan? Destroy this community, rob these children of their education, bankrupt their parents?"

"Yes."

"No. We're not doing it. Have you lost your mind? Have you completely forgotten where you came from? There's no way you could've afforded an education if you'd had to pay for it!"

"This isn't about me fifteen years ago! This is about those children, and how I can keep this school open!"

"We're not doing it." He crosses his arms, and sinks down into his chair. Point-blank refusing to even listen to me. And I'm not in the mood for an argument either. I'm not sure how much longer I can stop these burning tears from flooding into my eyes. Maybe I can't even stop my own tears from betraying me.

"We are. It is, after all, my school." I spit those words as though it's easy.

"Well, I resign." He says it as though he doesn't care. I don't either.

"Okay. And I accept your resignation." Cool, businesslike to the very end. I should shake his hand, but he can't even look at me anymore. I breathe in, and out. Glance, just once, up to the ceiling. And then I leave. Before he can say anything. Before I can cry.

"Are you okay sis?" Sonya's there, of course she is. Sitting at her desk, looking up at me as I hurry through the door. Biting back at my tears, clinging helplessly onto my last threads of self control.

"Get out of my way Sonya"

"Lorraine?" Sonya's voice. A confused flutter, blustering from between her bubblegum pink lips. My cold tone chilling her.

"Lorraine-" his voice is different. Freezing, serious. Suddenly turning all the burning hot air in my body to painful, sticking ice. Tearing at my lungs as I try to breathe. He repeats my name. Louder now. Pressing against my eardrums.

But I'm gone. Striding through the office door, leaving it to slam shut behind me. Strip lighting, and the corridor smells of disinfectant and white-board markers. Adrenaline and sweating fear mixing in my blood, until I can feel it pumping around my head. Until I can't think and I can't see and I can't breathe. Burning tears welling in my eyes, but I'm not strong enough to cry. I resist the almost overwhelming urge to sink down at the head of the stairs, and rest my pounding head against the cool metal railings. But I don't. I walk, until it's just my clicking heels and the doors looming ahead of me, and the swirling thoughts jumbled together in my head. Because it's eerily quiet, and I can feel the hot silence pressing against my body.

My hand on the metal of the door handle.

Cool spring air, dancing onto my skin, twisting through my hair.

My car keys. My heels on the tarmac.

Smooth metal, glistening red in the sunlight. I can feel my breathing slowing. I slam the door.

Leather and silence and a bubble of control. I start the engine, and I can feel the subdued power throbbing under the bonnet. Both hands on the steering wheel, the throttle under the glistening red sole of my heel.


	21. Chapter 21

**Look I updated. Boom. Magical. Wouldn't recommend you read this. And it's really short cos I'm shit.**

**Chapter 21**

**Lorraine's POV**

"He resigned." I touch my tongue to my lips as I speak. And I l look up at her. She's frowning, her lips parted slightly. Her eyes impossibly blue, wide, maybe more than a little bewildered. She's lost, confused. She doesn't know what I'm saying, not yet. I don't really know what I'm trying to say yet either. I wonder how I can make her understand.

"What?" Her voice is very, very soft.

"Michael. He...Michael resigned." I say. And maybe my voice shakes a little. I feel her take a step closer to me. Her hand brushes across my back softly. I take a deep breath in.

"W-what? What the hell?" She's saying, frowning as she looks down at me, her eyes flickering across my face. I think she's trying to read my expression, because she still doesn't quite understand what I'm saying to her.

"You heard me. Michael's left." I say quickly, I try very hard to keep my voice light, as though it doesn't matter. Looking away from her.

"Why?"

"I'm going to start charging fees, at the school."

"Oh. Okay. Why?"

"I need to. To do all the things we want to do, I need to do it. Charge fees, I mean. And Michael doesn't like that." I walk beside her, watching as she clasps her hands together and peels them apart once again., her head down. And then she looks down at me, her gaze meeting my own. "Oh Jesus Christ Nikki, don't look at me like that. I didn't want to do it, but I had to. I had to do it, there isn't a choice." I sigh. And then, unhesitatingly, I hold out one hand towards her, brushing my fingertips lightly across the thick material of her trousers. She hesitates, her palm hovering over mine, and then she takes it, and clasps our hands together tightly. For a fraction of a second. Then she drops my hand

"You have to? I mean, you have to start charging the fees?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay."

"It's my decision, it's my money. Michael, well, he was always going to have to grin and bear it. But now he's resigned instead."

"And you just accepted his resignation?"

"Yeah, with immediate effect. Which leaves me with a practically bankrupt school and no head teacher."

"Damn." She breathes, shaking her head slowly. As though she doesn't believe me. I wish that I could read her mind. What I wouldn't give to know what went on behind those perfectly blue eyes. God. I blink, and look far too quickly away from her.

"Yeah. Damn." I say softly. I don't really know what else to say. I look blankly, unseeingly out to sea. Somewhere, miles away, there's a tiny, inky black blot on the skyline. An oil rig maybe. Or a huge boat. I don't know. I can hear seagulls mewling, and the cries of children playing in the freezing white, rabid surf on the shoreline.

"What're you going to do?" She says. Because I'm supposed to be the one with the plan. Of course. And right now, I don't really have one.

"What can I do?" I shrug hopelessly. "I can employ someone as fast as I can. So?"

"So, what?" She replies. She's really frowning now, her eyes fleeting and confused, taking in every inch of my face.

"Will you do it?" I say. I make it sound casual. As though I'm offering her a coffee. My tone light. My voice maybe a little too quick.

"Now you've really lost me, it sounds like you're..."

"Yeah, I am. I'm offering you the job. Will you take it?"

"Me? Oh my god, Lorraine! No, I'm not...I'm not...ready. I'm not qualified, I'm not experienced enough. I can't."

"Nikki, I need someone I can really trust. Someone who shares the same..."

"Bed? Oh come on Lorraine"

"I want you to do it, because it'll be best for the school."

"And what about Christine? Or Tom even. Tom's been deputy longer, and Christine is more experienced, ask one of them, they'd do a damn better job."

"Tom? Really? He's a lovely bloke but I think we both know that he's not really management material. So to be perfectly honest with you Nikki, right now it's a choice between you or Christine. And I know who I'd rather share an office with." Smiles, she's smiling, biting down a little too hard on her bottom lip. White, bloodless. God, if I weren't...if I weren't myself, I would kiss her. And I would never stop kissing her.

"But, Lorraine-" I can see it in her eyes, glinting a little. Hot anticipation in her voice as she trips over her words. She wants the job. Underneath all the fear and the modestly and the nervous energy, she really, really wants the job.

"Please Nikki." I look up at her, watching her as her eyes fly carefully over my face. I know she won't refuse me. Because I'm silently willing her to say yes. There's a moments silence, a slight pause. She jerks her head a little.

"Okay. Okay, fine, I'll do it." And now, she's really smiling. Nudging me awkwardly with her shoulder, her hand awkwardly brushing against mine. I smile, and squeeze her hand tight. For a moment. And then drop it. As though her skin burnt me. As though someone might see.

* * *

"Tomorrow...oh my god...oh my god...oh my...god." She's grasping the pillows, sweating, gasping through her words. "You're telling me...tomorrow...I've got to...oh my god..."

"Nikki, shh." I rest my chin on the tight muscles of her stomach, and I look up at her. Her eyes squeezed closed, her body squirming, twisting. Sweat slicking over her skin, hot. She's stressed, her face screwed up.

"Tomorrow...tomorrow you want me to...you want me to be head...teacher..." Gasp. She's gasping through her teeth, wriggling with burning fustration. "Fucking head teacher...fucking head teacher. Fuck-" She almost yells the last word, as I kiss her skin once again, feeling the tight muscles of her stomach twisting under my lips. She tries to wriggle away from me a little, and she's pulling desperately at the pillows, tugging the sheets quickly across her chest. Her nails desperate, scrabbling. Too quick.

"Seriously, Nikki, relax." I whisper. Straight onto her skin, my hot breath tickling across her skin as I speak. And I'm dropping one kiss, two kisses, more. Impossibly tiny as my lips go lower and lower. And lower.

"Oh my god...I can't believe I agreed to this...fucking stupid...I can't...oh my god, I can't." She's murmuring quickly, tripping over and over her words. And I lick down her stomach. God, she's hot. And I feel her breathing become a little quicker. And now, I don't think she could speak even if she wanted to. But she's still trying, still gasping.

"Oh for fuck's sake Nikki, be quiet. Fucking relax." I spit, kissing along her hip bones, a little too slowly. Torturously. I feel her sigh, the screaming muscles of her stomach loosening for a moment. One second. And then my lips go lower. And lower. One of her hands on my scalp, nails too deep in my skin. I try to remember to breathe. And now she's really panting. Maybe she's silently screaming now. God. Moaning my name.

And later, when she can breathe once again, I kiss her slowly. Once, and then I pull away from her. Leaving her gasping onto thin air, wanting more.

"You're such a fucking...fucking...hot fucking bitch sometimes..." she's gasping, giggling. Desperately attempting to catch her breath. Running both her hands through my sweaty, hot hair. Fingers quick through my loose, tangled blonde curls. Spilling, pouring through her fingers. And she's not looking me in the eyes, her eyes are fixed tightly on my lips as she pulls me closer.

"You know you love me really." I grin. Falling into bed beside her, rolling towards her to kiss her softly.

"Yeah, yeah, I do" she smiles.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey. Sorry that it's been a while since I've written anything, I had five dance shows in three days and life is hectic. And I'm sorry this is shit, and I'm sorry the last chapter was shit too. So yeah. I'm just generally really sorry.**

**Lorraine's POV**

**Chapter 22**

"I'm doing the right thing" I breathe, as much to myself as to her. Trying to dispel the nagging, sickening doubts in my chest. The cutting fear, because deep down, I know that this is right, and that's what scares me the most.

"Yeah, yeah you are." Sleep threads thickly through her voice. And I know she's not listening to me, because she still half-asleep. She's running her fingers slowly through my wet hair, blinking her eyes open. I've already been in the shower, done my makeup and I'm in nothing but my underwear, but I lay back down in bed beside her as she leans in for a kiss. I let her wrap an arm around my shoulders, and I let her slowly pull me closer. And I close my eyes, and concentrate on the soothing jumbled shapes her fingers are tracing over my bare back. I don't need to tell myself continually that this is okay, that I'm happy, because I am. I don't need to drill the idea into my brain, because it seeps from my every pore. She kisses my forehead slowly, and I tilt my chin up so I can see her blinking down at me. I roll onto my chest, and wriggle towards her. I kiss her collarbones. I've already done my makeup, and my lips leave nothing but tiny red smudges of colour splashing over her pale skin.

"Get dressed, we'll be late." I say, attempting to keep my voice brisk as I pull away from her slowly, reluctantly. And then I slide off the bed, walking over to my walk-in wardrobe and running my fingertips over leather, sharp sequins, hot fur, more leather, and silk, before pulling out two dresses. I frown, glancing over myself in the floor-length mirrors as I hold them up to my body.

"Which should I wear?" I glance over my shoulder at Nikki, who's pulling on her trousers. She looks up at me sharply, her eyes flickering from my reflection in the mirror to my bare back, then back to the mirror again.

"Umm, the blue one?" she says, her bottom lip between her teeth, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she watches me pull it on. "And I can't believe you're making me do this." She's sitting on the very edge of the bed, half-dressed, her back hunched, her head in her hands. I watch the way her muscles twist as she rakes her hand through her messy hair. God, she's hot.

"I'm not making you do anything babe." I cross the room and sit on the opposite side of the bed, crawling across the tangled sheets towards her, and I kneel beside her, my hands hovering over her knees, because I'm not sure if I should touch her or not. "I promise you Nikki, you'll do an amazing job. Don't worry about it." And then I touch her gently. Running one hand slowly along her thigh. She glances up at me. Shaking her head a little.

"You always know all the right things to say, don't you?" Her voice light, cutting through with cold stress and nervous energy. Her eyes flicker over my face, settling on my lips. Quickly, before she can kiss me, I turn away from her, and scoop all my slightly damp hair over one shoulder, so she can see the gaping zip that runs down my back.

"Can you do it up?" I murmur. And then I feel her fingertips gently collide with my bare skin. She runs one finger slowly down my spine, and then fumbles with the zipper for an instant. And then she runs it smoothly up my back. I begin to speak again, stammering a little at first. "And no, no. No, please don't say that Nikki, I never know the right bloody thing to say. Not ever." I sigh. And then breathe in a little too sharply as she kisses the back of my neck carefully. And then I'm shaking all my hair over my shoulders, away from my face. Getting up slowly, and I finish getting dressed. Bending to slip on my heels. She watches me, just following my movements with her eyes. Her pupils flickering.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just not good at...things, you know?" I almost laugh. Half embarrassed, half exasperated with myself. "You see, that's me doing it again. I can't just...talk. But that's not important. Right now, this, this is your big day. And you're going to do a wonderful job. I've got complete faith in you. Okay?"

"Babe-" She's reaching out and trying to hold my hand, but I turn away from her as though I haven't noticed. I have though.

"Get dressed. Do you want some breakfast?" I say, walking across the room. High heels on her clothes, abandoned and scattered on the floor. I look at her.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Hurry up then, you can't be late. First day in the new job and all that. I want to show you around the office." She looks up at me as I speak, and smiles nervously. Raising one hand, running her fingers through her hair again, sweeping it away from her face. I turn away, about to leave the room before she can say anything else. But I'm not quite quick enough.

"When are we going to tell the rest of the staff?"

"About this?" I know she can hear the cutting shock in my voice, the bewildered fear. My heart flips over as I raise my hand, my forefinger flickering between the two of us, too quickly. Her eyes blur a little as her gaze follows my finger. And then she looks down, laughing at me gently, shaking her head.

"No...umm, actually, I meant about my...umm...promotion...about me being head teacher?" She still doesn't look at me as she speaks, all traces of laughter in her voice now long gone. And I look away too, and I sigh.

"I'll have to tell them this morning in the staffroom. We haven't really got time...I mean, I can't wait to have an official meeting, I need someone immediately."

"We'll tell them in the staffroom this morning."

"That's what I said."

"No, you said you'd tell them. But I want to be there too, I want it to look like I was...umm...properly appointed." Her eyes skating over the floor, looking for her shirt.

"Here." I pick it up and throw it to her, in a high, curving arch. She glances up too quickly, catching it in one hand.

"Cheers." She mumbles, pulling it roughly on, buttoning it up without looking at what her fingers are doing. Slightly uneven, the collar slightly creased.

"And for god's sake Nikki, you were properly appointed. You fucking were. I needed someone quickly and you're the best woman for the job. And your collar's a mess." Slowly, I walk towards her, and my fingers don't shake as I straighten it out. There's a tiny bruise on her neck, blushing a delicate dark blue against her pale skin. "Aww, shit, Nik, you've got a bruise-"

"God, Lo. And I wonder who's fault that was?" she mumbles sarcastically under her breath, as she quickly raises a hand to rub at the mark, as though she might just be able to smudge it away. I shake my head, and then realise that I'm still standing behind her, and she can't see me.

"Shut up, put some makeup on it, you can barely see it. It'll be fine. Is toast okay?" I bend my head a little, and I kiss her neck softly. And I inexplicably know that she's smiling again. I like this. I like the way I can make her really, properly happy.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine. Toast's great, thanks." She nods, and gulps as I walk away from her once again, and she's raising a hand and self-consciously rubbing at the tiny bruise on her neck. And I leave her.

**Nikki's POV**

I lean against the edge of the desk. I can feel the sharp corner of the wood digging into my thighs. I bite at my bottom lip. Lorraine said she'd meet me here, in the staffroom. She said she'd got to take a phone call from the office, that she'd be back as soon as she could. But now it's nearly half past eight, and the first few yawning, sleep-deprived dregs of teachers are starting to trickle through the staffroom door.

"Morning Nikki" Christine looks happy. Never a good sign. And yet she must know about Michael, she must know about him resigning. She knows it all. Maybe she thinks she'll be next in line for the top job. Maybe that's why she looks so happy. If so, I know she'll be bitterly disappointed. Easily disappointed enough to set her tongue loose, trailing away. Words about myself and Lorraine dripping from her mouth, laced with acidic pleasure. She'd want to see Lorraine's face, I know she would. She'd want to watch as she sent Lorraine's world smashing to pieces. And there's nothing I can do, but smile grimly at her as she passes me, pulling her bag a little higher up her shoulder. The carefully covered bruise on my neck seems to burn, until I'm sure that someone must notice. Someone will see. Ask me about it. And maybe I won't be able to lie, all those little meaningless falsehoods dying on my tongue. Leaving me with absolutely nothing but the cutting truth.

I take a deep breath in. Telling myself that I can do this. All I need to do is keep it all together. I can do this. I wish I believed in myself as much as Lorraine believes in me. And just as I think about her, Lorraine sweeps into the room. Smile confident, hair perfectly curled. Her chin up, her voice loud, authoritative. Plunging the whole room into a chilly silence. Someone murmurs something under their breath to another teacher. And suddenly, I can't look at any of them. Because I've only got eyes for her.

"I've got some bad news this morning. Some of you, you may have already heard-"

"Michael's resigned." Christine smiles as she drops that bombshell. Cutting off Lorraine, leaving her hanging on her final word. Her voice fading from the tip of her tongue, as the whole room seems to take a breath in. A single moment of buzzing silence. I feel her eyes, Lorraine's eyes, flit over me, but I don't look up and meet her gaze. I can't look up, I can't look at any of them. And then I hear Tom's voice, louder than the others, rising above the growing tide of unhappy, disgruntled, surprised murmurings.

"Why the hell did he resign?" A quick, simple question. I feel my mouth go completely dry, and I pray that Lorraine will answer the question. And she does, seamlessly, confidently.

"Because he didn't like some of my policies, and some of the...um...changes I need to implement." Lorraine's voice is brisk, a little too cool maybe. Her icy mask slipping, momentarily revealing something even colder underneath. But she claws it all back together. "And so he decided to leave. And I've appointed Nikki as head teacher."

"What?" Tom is frowning. He looks angry, confused, and more than just a little annoyed. He's unconsciously balling his hands up to tight fists, and uncurling them once again. Christine's face is blank, maybe a shadow of a smile hovering over her lips. I glance at Lorraine. There's something hard, blazing in her eyes, her chin up. And I glance back down to the floor.

"You heard me." Lorraine's voice is too cold. "Miss Boston here is now head. And I don't want to delay you this morning, so I'll be holding a staff meeting tonight where we'll go over some of the new policies of the school. I'll see you all back here at four. Excuse me." She speaks quickly, her cool blue eyes sweeping over the gaping, disbelieving faces of the teachers. I wonder if creeping shame curls across her skin, making her shiver like I shiver. But she smiles a little, her eyes softening as she looks at me for the briefest moment, and then she turns away. And I follow her, silently, unquestioning, just like she knew I would.

* * *

The end of the day. The end of the meeting. And it didn't go well. The staff stared in disbelief, shocked into silence as Lorraine outlined her plans. Fee paying. Only taking the most able students. Each and every word she spoke widening Christine's smug grin, as though Lorraine had accidentally attached tiny strings to the corners of her mouth. But Christine kept her silence.

And now I'm tired. I want to go home, I want a drink, and I want Lorraine to rest her head on my shoulder and tell me that I did okay today. That's all. I'm hurriedly tidying the last of my paperwork, ready to leave it on the desk in my new office. I straighten up, fiddling with the hem of my jacket. Eyes quickly scanning the room, and before I'm even totally sure who I'm looking for, I see her working her way through a tangled knot of angry teachers, all speaking together hurriedly.

"Great, well that is bloody great. Bloody great. I'm sure she'll do a fantastic job." I can't help but hear him, Tom's voice is cold and dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't listen." She murmurs, stepping closer to me. So I can smell her perfume and see the tiny frown cross her forehead as she shoots a dark glance over to where Tom, Christine and Audrey are in deep discussion, none of them bothering to keep their voices down. I can't help but hear what they're saying.

"She's got no experience at all, and Lorraine didn't even internally advertise for anyone else, did she?" Tom's looking around as he speaks, his eyes wide, questioning. The rest of the staff shake their heads, all with an almost identical, confused and angry frown cutting across their face.

"I just don't understand..." that's Audrey, her meek voice bleating out through the disgruntled murmuring.

"I understand perfectly." That's Christine. And Lorraine starts to speak, attempting to blot out Christine's voice. But I can still hear her perfectly.

"What?" Tom and Audrey speak simultaneously. Voices merging together. And I'm silent. I bend a little lower over my papers, my hands suddenly fumbling, pretending to listen to what Lorraine is telling me. But as her words fizzle away into nothingness, I know that she's listening to their conversation too. And I know that she doesn't like it, I know she doesn't like it at all. Her hand hovers over my own, and I can feel nervous heat radiating from her palm onto the back of my hand. I don't look up at her.

"What on earth do you mean Christine?" That's Audrey once again. Her accent thick, laced with confusion. I feel sick.

"I mean, do you think Nikki had to apply for the job and be interviewed, or do you think sleeping with your boss is enough to earn a promotion?"

A collective breath in. A ripple of surprise. A nervous smile, a scandalised glance. Christine's cold eyes burning into the back of my skull.

All blurring away into nothing.

And suddenly, the scared, beautiful girl beside me, she's the only one I can see.

Lorraine takes a breath in. Shaking. Her head down. Eyes cast down to the ground. Her lips slightly parted, and I can see them tremouring. Her hand almost touches my own. But then she pulls away.

And then she looks up at me. Her pupils huge, her blue eyes brimming over with burning, molten fear.

My heart plunges down. Until it beats faintly, feebly. Blood suddenly still, listless in my veins. And she doesn't argue. She doesn't fight. She doesn't say a word.

She just chokes something tear-filled and indistinguishable, that may have been "Nikki" or "sorry" or "I love you" or absolutely nothing at all. And then she turns sharply on her six-inch designer heels, and she leaves. Before they see her beak.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey look new chapter. Hope it's not too bad. Love you all, and thank you for like the comments and that like.**

**Sorry this hasn't been updated in forever I've been doing real-life flavour things.**

**Chapter 23**

**Lorraine's POV**

I pace up and down the balcony. Over and over. My feet bare, my head pounding. My phone on silent. Still on silent. I know she's been calling me, again and again. I've lost count how many times her name has burst across my phone, bright lights suddenly illuminating the screen. And I don't reply to her messages, I don't answer her calls. I don't even listen to the voicemail messages she leaves for me. They light up my screen, and make my stomach turn. Clocking up the minutes on my answerphone, because each and every time she's left me a message, but I haven't replied to any of them. I don't know what I should say, and I don't want to listen to what she has to say either. And now it's nearly eight in the evening and I still haven't called her back. God. I want to call her back. But I don't want to sound as though I care too much. I shouldn't care this much. I shouldn't care this much. If I say it enough times, repeating those words over and over in my mind, then maybe it'll somehow come true. I sigh. Exasperated, angry with myself. And her, I'm angry with Nikki too. Maybe I'm just angry with everything and everyone. I wrench open the wide French doors that lead back into my flat. It's a little warmer inside. I grab my handbag from the corner, where I'd flung it the second I'd stepped through the door. My hands fumble, grasping. Finally gripping onto the reassuringly cool cigarette lighter. A half-empty packet of cigarettes. I light up as I walk back through the flat, back out onto the cool balcony. The sun is just setting, a pool of blood red light seeping through the sky. I take a long drag. I breathe out. I want to go over and see her. I take another drag. I hold it. Burning, vile smoke. I breathe out. Maybe I should. Maybe that would make it easier, if we were face to face.

And then I hear a knock on the door. And I rush to open it, embarrassingly quickly.

And she's standing there, and she's changed into jeans and a loose t-shirt. And I realise that I'm still wearing the tight blue dress she watched me choose that morning. My hair is loose, curling and falling all over my shoulders. And I know that my eyes are stained from crying. And then she glances around quickly. As though she's worried that someone might see us. And then she looks at me, and shakes her head a little.

"Oh god Lo" she murmurs softly. And I try to smile as I open the door a little wider. And she silently brushes past me, into my flat. She stands in the middle of the room, deliberately looking away from me.

"Oh god, what?" I say coolly as I close the door quickly. I walk slowly towards her, but she doesn't move. And she shakes her head slowly, turning to look at me.

"You've been crying." She says bluntly.

"I haven't." I reply, equally abruptly. Clenching my fists tight. Again, she shakes her head. And I know that she doesn't believe me.

"You're a bad liar. Please Lorraine." Her voice is softening a little. And she's reaching out towards me, and I take a tiny step away from her.

"You were calling me?"

"About a million times, yeah." She nods, and then shrugs.

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up." I say the words, but I know that I don't actually sound sorry. She doesn't seem to even care though.

"That's okay." She says, gently, as though she understands why I'm not calling her back. But I don't, I don't understand.

"They all fucking know. All of them. They all fucking, they fucking..." My voice is trembling, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. And I start to cry. Silently. Fat tears rolling slowly from my eyes, tracing thick mascara-smudged tracks down my cheeks.

"Jesus, baby." she breathes. And then she just takes three steps towards me, and she holds me carefully, her hands gentle around my waist. I rest my chin on her shoulder. My hot tears beginning to just dampen the soft fabric of her t-shirt. I wonder if she's shocked to feel that I'm actually shaking a little.

"I feel sick." I whisper into her chest. As though I'm almost ashamed to admit it. She runs her fingers slowly through my carefully curled hair, and I can feel her heart beating, pounding way, way too fast. I wonder if she's scared too.

"Shh, it's okay" she says. Even though we both know that it isn't.

"They all know Nikki. No-one knows, not ever. Not even me. And now...now..." She holds my face in her hands as I speak. And she uses her thumbs to quickly brush away my tears. "Now, it's all so fucked up."

"It's okay Lorraine. It's okay." She repeats as I cry. Burning hot tears, scared. She says it over and over and over. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Okay?" she holds onto my arms, and pulls me gently away from her chest. I know she's only speaking because she doesn't want that burning silence to scorch a hole between us. And I try to breathe normally as she looks at me carefully, her eyes skating over my face.

"Don't kiss me." I murmur, breaking eye contact and looking away, down at the floor. My voice completely void of all emotion.

"Why not?" she breathes.

"I've been smoking, it's vile." I say. And then she laughs easily, and hugs me closer again. Both her hands on the small of my back. Inexplicably I feel safe.

"You're lovely" she murmurs into my hair. "And it doesn't matter. I mean, the staff knowing, it doesn't actually change anything."

"It does."

"What does it change?" She tilts her head to one side, and looks at me. Her blue eyes achingly honest.

"I...I...I can't explain." I stammer. All the words filling up my head somehow getting lost and tangled before they reach my tongue, still crawling with the taste of hot tar. So that I can barely string two words together.

"Okay." She says. And she nods, leaning forwards and kissing the nape of my neck carefully. Pressing her lips against my skin for nearly a second. My chest rises, and falls again. My eyes flutter closed, so nothing at all is real but the darkness and her lips against my flesh. And then she pulls away, and I can feel her eyes over my body.

"What am I going to say Nikki? What can I say?"

"To who, the teachers?"

"Yeah."

"Screw them. Seriously Lorraine, screw them all." She presses a kiss onto my forehead. And I open my mouth, ready to reply even though I don't know what I'm going to say. No idea at all. And then the doorbell rings.

"I...I should..." I point to the door. And she drops her hands to her sides automatically. Even though it hardly matters who sees us now. Everyone knows. God.

"Yeah." She nods quietly. "Yeah you should."

"Can you...?" I point to the nearest door, and a frown cuts sharply across her face.

"Am I really still your dirty little secret Lorraine?" she says, in a whisper. So quietly that I barely know if she's sarcastic, or teasing, or genuinely hurt. But I just look at her. And she just raises one eyebrow and slides through the ajar bedroom door, just as the bell tears through the flat again. And I take a deep breath in. And answer the door.

Cheap leopard-print heels. Frighteningly long false nails. An incredulous scowl on her face. My heart sinks to the very very soles of my feet. And then she opens her mouth.

"Sis, you'll never believe what Audrey said to me earlier."


	24. Chapter 24

**S'up bitches? Can we not talk about this week's Waterloo Road because I liked Tom and he was sweet and I sobbed buckets when he kicked the bucket. Also, this chapter is like entirely speech and I'm perfectly aware that I'm really bloody bad at writing speech and conversations, so just please be patient and I'm sorry for my general shitness. And I'm flouncing off to Rome on Monday, so I won't be able to write ANYTHING ALL WEEK, and I might not update again before I go. Soz. Was gonna write more but it's nearly 1am and I'm supposed to be going to see my boyfriend. Night.**

**Chapter 24**

Suddenly, my throat seems impossibly dry. So dry that I can't possibly speak. For a moment, I just look at her. And she begins to frown as she looks at me.

"I'm busy Sonya." I tilt my chin up and quickly move to close the door. But she doesn't seem to notice as she steps forwards, bustling past me into the flat. I sigh, my shoulders dropping slightly. The flat is silent, my bedroom door pulled very nearly closed. I silently thank god that Nikki agreed to hiding like this. I don't know what I'd do if she didn't. I can feel gnawing guilt in my chest. I feel ill. And I know that I'm a terrible liar. This isn't going to end well. But I keep my head up, my voice strong, hurried, businesslike, as I speak to her. "I really am busy, can we make this as quick as possible?" I say as Sonya walks away from me, teetering, wobbling a little on her ridiculous, scarily high heels.

"Lorraine you're always busy. I'll only be a minute then I'll leave you to your boring paperwork and those damn budget cuts and accountants reports. Anyway, this is really important." She says stubbornly.

"Okay. Fine." I follow her slowly across the flat. She sits on the sofa, fussily straightening out her skirt, crossing her legs. I pointedly sit opposite her in the high-backed leather armchair. Knees together, shoulders down. I look cool, collected, confident. Inside, I feel wriggling nerves and churning vomit. God.

"So are you going to ask me about what Audrey told me?" my sister is frowning, her eyes flying over me. I sit up a little straighter, and I confidently flick my hair quickly over my shoulders. She leans towards me as she speaks and I can almost smell the bubblegum she's been chewing lacing through her breath. Ever since we were kids, she's never really changed. And I suddenly I have no patience for her cheap gossip.

"Quite frankly Sonya, I really don't care about your little staffroom dramas. I've got things to do." My voice is something a little more than distant. Strained, I'm trying my hardest not to let my voice shake. It's taking absolutely everything I've got to stay detached, cool. I know that I've got to stay in control. I've always got to stay in control.

"Is there anything you want to talk about sis?" She leans a little closer to me. My heart sinks, and a little, nagging voice in the back of my mind screams 'she knows, she knows, she knows.' I clasp my hands together too tightly, and pray to god that she doesn't notice that something's wrong.

"No. Why?" I reply shortly. Brief syllables. I breathe in sharply.

"It's just..." she breathes in. "Audrey, she says that Christine says-"

"She says that she says? Oh god Sonya, I don't care..." I rake my fingers through my hair, shaking it away from my face, just so I've got something to do with my hands.

"She says you're seeing Nikki Boston!" I can't look at my sister as the words burst from her lips. Instead, my eyes are fixed at some point just over her shoulder. I can feel her gaze, surprisingly strong and searching, covering my face.

"Oh." I say. I still don't look at her.

"Like, seeing, seeing Nikki Boston. Like, seeing her." She repeats her words. As though I want to hear it again, as though I didn't understand precisely what she was insinuating the first time. I sigh.

"Oh." I repeat.

"And?" Her voice is softer now, confusion blurring at the edges of her words.

"And what?" I say. As though I still don't really understand what she's asking me. I choke back the lump at the back of my throat, and I dig my nails deep into my own palms.

"And, are you?"

"What kind of bloody question is that?" I snap at her. She leans away from me a little.

"Lorraine, sis-"

"This is ridiculous Sonya. I really don't have time for this shit." And she looks relieved as she hears the disappointed, tired anger in my voice. She almost looks happy, as she tilts her chin up and speaks a little louder.

"I knew it was all rubbish, of course, I mean, you and her? I don't know about her, but, I mean, well you're not some kind of lesbian, are you?" For the first time, I properly look at her. And she suddenly seems to think it's funny, something we can have a cheap laugh about together. I shake my head, and look away from her, down at my hands.

"Yeah. Exactly. Look, I'll see you tomorrow then." There's absolutely nothing in my voice. Completely empty.

"No, Lorraine, wait..."

"What now?" I snap, rubbing my hands across my forehead and closing my eyes for a fraction of a second. Feigning a banging headache and hours of paperwork ahead of me. Hoping, praying that she'll leave quickly. Because Nikki is still waiting silently in the adjacent room, easily capable of listening to every word we spoke. God. I feel ill.

"You already knew about these stupid rumours?" Her voice a little more serious now, something more than just lightly quizzical.

"No." I don't know what else I'm supposed to say. "No, I didn't know."

"It's just...well, it's just you don't seem very surprised, that's all." I take a deep breath in as she speaks. Harmlessly burbling on. I try to let her words just wash over me, acting as though it means absolutely nothing. But that's a lie, and I know it.

"She said...something like that at the staff meeting earlier." I stammer. I can lie to myself far easier than I can lie to her.

"Oh my god. She said it to your face? What a spiteful little cow, spreading lies like these, you could sue her on...li...lib..."

"It's called libel. And I'll see you tomorrow Sonya." I say. My voice quiet. Tired.

"That's it? You don't want to know why she was saying those things, or why-"

"No. No, I don't care." My head snaps up. And for the briefest moment we make eye contact. And her frown deepens. Now she looks really, properly worried about me. So I open my mouth, and I'm relieved to realise that I sound a little more like my normal self. "Sonya, what exactly don't you understand about 'I'm busy, leave me alone'?"

"Lorraine, have you been crying?" She asks me, leaning forwards again, resting one palm on my knee, tilting her head down so it's harder for me to avoid her gaze. I still try my hardest not to look at her though.

"No." I say sharply. And I resist the urge to dislodge her hand from my knee. Both my own hands still clutched together in my lap. And I can feel my palms beginning to sweat a little. I look fixedly down at my hands. I wish Nikki wasn't here, hiding in my bedroom like a guilty child, but more than anything I wish I knew if she was listening to every word I spoke. It would make it so much easier if there wasn't a silent, unseen audience.

"You have, I can tell you've been crying. I'm not stupid you know Lo."

"You're doing a damn good impression of it though" I mumble. She acts as though she hasn't heard me, but I know that she has.

"What's wrong? Don't let what Christine's saying get to you, she's always been a right bitch. She's a proper piece of work her, you could fire her if you wanted to. Or is it the school stressing you out? Cos I could...I could ring Nikki and timetable her to take on some of your workload?"

"No! No, no, don't ring her." I scrunch my hands together. My knuckles are white.

"You don't think she could've started these nasty little rumours do you? I mean-" Sonya's voice is softer, she's speaking as much to herself as she is to me. Thinking out loud. But I don't want to know what she's thinking, and I definitely know that don't want to know what she thinks about me. I sigh, my shoulders sagging a little.

"It wasn't Nikki." I say, my voice a little quieter than hers. Because I don't want Nikki to be able to hear me. I don't really want Sonya to catch my words either, and maybe she doesn't, because she continues to speak, her voice quicker, more excitable now.

"I mean, I suppose she owes you one, especially now she's head teacher, but all the same-" she's still just stumbling around, she has no idea what she's saying.

"It wasn't Nikki" I repeat the precise same words. Still hoping in vain that my sister will get the hint and leave. Before I say something stupid. Before I clumsily admit to something I never, ever want to admit to.

"But how do you know it wasn't?" She insists. She likes this train of thought, so she's just going to keep on running with it, driving me ever closer to...I don't know. I don't know how I feel, I don't know what I want to say. I just know that I don't think I can take this much longer.

"I'm telling you, Nikki never told anyone." I breathe.

"I don't know why you're sticking up for her." She says. And then she looks at me. My shoulders hunched, my hands clasped together painfully tightly. My knees together. My head down, my eyes fixed blearily on a vague, out-of-focus blob on the floor. I hear her take a breath in. Her grasp on my leg tightens a little, as though she wants to be sure that this is real. That I'm really saying this. And she breathes out. I cautiously look up at her. Her lips shaping a perfect "o" shape in the empty air. And I look away from her.

"Sonya..." I murmur. She leans forwards towards me again. I feel her hesitate, about to hug me, but then pulls her arms away at the last moment. As though she doesn't want to touch me. I dig my nails a little deeper into my palms, and bite at my lips. And I refuse to make eye contact with her. "I'm seeing Nikki."

"Oh Lorraine. Oh god, Lo." She murmurs. Her voice shakes. And I don't trust myself to speak. I close my eyes.

"Happy now? I'm seeing her, I'm dating her, she's my bloody girlfriend."

"Why...why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to talk about it."

"Okay. You can trust me, you know?"

"And I still don't want to talk about it"

"Yeah, I can tell." She taps her fingers against my knee, gently nudging me. "Come on. You need to talk about it."

"Tell me, since when did you know what I needed to do?" I snap in reply. She looks a little taken aback, but continues to speak anyway.

"Don't be like this. Please. I mean, I know you're not...You've had boyfriends, you're not...there was thingy, and whatshisname...you're not...I mean, you're always so busy at work, and men throw themselves all over you...you're just busy at work...and you're not..." She doesn't know what she's saying, I'm sure that she has no idea what she's saying. But her words seem to become something more than simply compressed air, and they twist into something solid, looping around my throat until I can't breathe. "Lorraine. Say something."

"How many boyfriends have I had?" I say quietly. "Sonya, how many serious boyfriends have I had?" She hesitates a little before replying.

"Four? No...three...yeah, four. Four that I know about. But it looks like you don't tell me everything, obviously."

"You're right, I don't." I murmur.

"So...so...how...how long have you...known?"

"Known what? How long have I known that I wanted to fuck her? Is that what you mean?" My voice is a little stronger now. I stand, and she stands too as I lead her towards the front door.

"No, that's not what I was asking and you know it. I just wish you'd told me." She's hesitating in the hallway, her voice high and still too nervous.

"I'm telling you now."

"No, you didn't! Audrey told me! You're my sister, we're supposed to be close."

"It really doesn't matter."

"It does. It does matter Lorraine. I care."

I don't reply. I just silently pull open the door, but she's still hovering in the hallway. She looks unsure about what she should say. And I really don't want her to say anything. I want her to leave. I want to be on my own, and I need to know if Nikki's been listening to our whole conversation. I need to know.

"I'll...I'll see you tomorrow." She glances at me quickly as I speak. I don't meet her gaze. And suddenly, before I can pull away sharply, she's hugging me tight. She's clinging onto me a little too tightly for it to be comfortable, and I can't really breathe. She doesn't seem to care though. She hugs me for a long moment, and then lets me go.

"I love you, okay? And I'm here...I'm just...here."

"I know." I nod a little. And then she's leaving, and I can finally close the door. And resist the almost overwhelming urge to fall back against it. Instead, I take a few steps across the flat and I push open the ajar bedroom door. I pause in the doorway, looking at her. She's kicked off her shoes, and is laying on her chest, her bare feet on the pillows. She's propping herself up on her elbows and she's flipping through one of the thick quarterly budget reports for the school. I just watch her for a moment, before she somehow seems to sense I'm watching her, because she looks up sharply.

"Hey. How did it go?" Her voice is soft, coaxing. She smiles a little, just with one corner of her mouth as she looks at me carefully. I sigh, but I don't move to sit on the bed beside her.

"You weren't listening?"

"No. Why, should I?" She frowns a little, and rolls onto her side, making more room for me beside her on the bed and running one hand through her hair, sweeping it out of her face. But I still don't take a step towards her.

"That was the worst thing. The worst. She didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to say."

"She knows everything?" It's a simple, straightforward question, but I have no idea how to answer her. I just look at her blankly for a moment before I reply. She really is beautiful.

"She knows we're seeing each other. Everyone knows that now."

"Yeah. Come here." She pats the space beside her on the bed. And I walk slowly towards her. Sitting on the edge of my bed, my knees pressed together, with my back to her. I feel the bed move a little below me as she props herself up on one arm, sweeping my hair away from my neck. And leaving a single, glowing kiss there. "Do you want to talk about it Lo?" She asks.

"No. I've done enough talking. For now. Forever." I sigh. Closing my eyes too tight, so tiny dots of light pop before my vision.

"Okay." She murmurs against my skin. And that's it. I don't want to talk about it. She doesn't say anything else. She just runs her fingertips slowly down my back and she leaves more dripping hot kisses on my neck, down my shoulders. Until I'm aware of nothing but her skin and her hands and her burning hot lips.


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry about my general shitness.**

**I know less about plotlines and character development than BBC writers.**

**And what ****_is_**** "proof reading" anyway?**

**Reviews are lovely.**

**Chapter 25**

She's mumbling my name softly, sleepily, so quietly I can barely hear her. Gradually getting a little louder. I think about rolling over to face her, but my limbs are still heavy and saturated with hot sleep. I don't want to move. I feel myself just beginning to slip away into unconsciousness again, when she starts to speak properly, her voice a little stronger now.

"Nikki, Nikki, are you awake?" she breathes. I don't move, and I don't reply to her. I don't want it to be morning. I don't want to have to wake up and face the world. Yet another day of marking and keeping rowdy classes under control. Another day of Lorraine's constant worrying, her deeply ingrained stress beginning to rub off on me. And I hear her sigh, air rushing from between her lips, and I can feel her breath crashing against the back of my neck. At almost the exact same moment, I feel the hot palm of her hand collide with my waist, pulling up the fabric of my t-shirt a little, meeting my bare skin. I just breathe in, and then out. Her fingers move slightly, her fingertips drawing little tiny circles on my skin before going a little higher, along my ribs. Pulling the loose t-shirt higher and higher, and then finally tugging it gently over my head. Leaving my hair a mess, my body remaining perfectly still. My eyes are still closed. I somehow don't want to open them. She kisses my bare back, just once. And then she tears her lips away, and I feel her rest her cheek against my curving spine. She wriggles just a little closer to me, so our bodies fit perfectly together, and she sighs again. I don't want to have to move. I want to stay here forever, me and her. Flitting in and out of consciousness. But I know I have to wake. I have to.

"Morning" I whisper, and she jumps a little, startled, as I roll over to face her. My eyes flickering open for the first time. And I realise it isn't morning at all. Because her bedroom is still cool, and perfectly dark. But I hardly have time to take this in, before she's kissing me. Hotly, her body pressed against my own. She's breathing onto my lips and roughly pulling my arms around her, so my hands are just skimming over her hips. Both her hands wrapped around the back of my neck, deepening the kiss, dragging me closer. But I pull away.

"Nikki-" she breathes. Frowning, raking a hand through her hair, kissing me again. Her teeth rough on my bottom lip, her hands trailing down my neck, over my chest. Her fingertips shake a little as she touches me.

"What time is it?" I shake my head, brushing my messy hair from out of my face. She sighs and pouts as I blink around the dark bedroom, not even a sliver of morning light creeping from around the curtains. She rolls onto her back, away from me, and stares up at the ceiling. Her eyes oddly glassy, perhaps ringed with red, because she's not been sleeping. Or maybe she's been crying. I really don't know.

"Nearly three, I think" she whispers, raising one hand to the collar of my shirt that she's wearing, and roughly, impatiently pulling it away from her skin as though she were too hot. But it's cool in the bedroom, cool between her soft, silken sheets.

"And why the hell are you awake?" I murmur, inching closer to her. She doesn't look at me, but continues to stare blankly at the ceiling. She shrugs, a tiny twitch of her shoulders, as though she can't even be bothered to move. I look at her carefully. Her blue, scared eyes, ringed with red. Because I know she won't admit it, but I also know that whilst I've been sleeping, she's been lying awake beside me and crying.

"I just can't sleep, you know?" Suddenly, I can hear the drying tears in her voice as she murmurs to me, her eyes flickering down from my eyes to my lips.

"So you thought you'd wake me up? Oh yeah, great." I roll my eyes, but my voice is soft, teasing her gently.

"It wasn't like that. I just...running over everything in my head, again and again. I didn't want to be on my own." She shakes her head a little bit as she speaks, as though she's trying to shake away the thoughts spinning around her head.

"You're not on your own, I'm here. And running over what?" I murmur.

"I'm on my own when you're sleeping like a bloody baby next to me. And I was thinking about what Sonya said. And what Christine said. And what absolutely everyone is going to say at work tomorrow." She murmurs, scraping her hair back, away from her face, and then closing her eyes slowly.

"There's no point. No point doing that to yourself, torturing yourself like that." I twist myself towards her, raising a hand to pull the loose collar of the shirt she's wearing away from her skin, and I kiss her shoulder softly. "Go back to sleep." I whisper onto her skin, my eyes closing again, but she just wriggles unhappily.

"Will the kids all know? Will some...fucking wanker...fucking..." for an instant, she gasps, as though she can't ever quite get enough air into her lungs. I kiss her shoulder again. Her eyes close, too quickly. But then she opens them again, and looks at me as she continues to speak "...fucking tell them, tell the kids? About this?" She murmurs. There's tight anger threading through her voice. But she's scared too, I know she is, I can read all the fear in her eyes. I can see her dark pupils drowning in the cold blue fear.

"No, I don't think anyone will tell them" I murmur, without even a moment of hesitation, as though I'm sure of it. Because I don't know if it's the truth or not, but I know that it's what she wants, what she needs to hear right now. She sighs.

"Okay" she breathes, nodding as she looks down at me. I look at her, and watch as a frown creases between her eyebrows for nearly a fraction of a second. And she looks so intently at me that I feel as though she might perhaps be able to see, not just right through me, but another layer of me, hidden under my skin. And then that moment passes, and she blinks, and then she looks happier. Maybe even relaxed. I prop myself up on one arm so I can see her a little better, and I look down at her. My eyes flying over her face. She bites at her lips before she wraps both her arms around my neck, and pulls me down towards her for a kiss.

"Is it worth it?" I murmur against her lips.

"What?" She frowns again, twisting my hair around her fingers.

"Me, I mean, being with me, is it worth feeling...shit?"

"I don't feel shit. You're not the one who makes me feel...I mean, you make me...I'm just shit scared. Sometimes. About...things..." She speaks softly. And then shrugs a little, and she frowns too, concentrating intently on my face. Her eyes wide, honest, searching, as her lips tremble a little, searching for words she can't say. I wonder what she's thinking. I want to ask her, but I'm not sure if I'll like her answer. So I just kiss her top lip and fall back into bed right beside her. "No." She whispers.

"No, what?" I don't look at her, my eyes are already beginning to close once again. I feel the mattress move, and then I feel her hot body a wriggle a little closer to me. I feel her chest move as she breathes in.

"No. Don't go to sleep, please. Come on, kiss me again." She mumbles.

"I want to sleep" I say stubbornly. Because I have to go to work tomorrow, and deal with a class full of rowdy children. And because it's three in the morning.

"Okay." She murmurs, snaking one hand around my waist, hugging me close. And she breathes in too deeply, and breathes out silently. I try to time my breathing so it's exactly the same as hers, but I somehow can't do it. Her arm around my waist tightens a little, and then she speaks again. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't be." I whisper back.

"I'm sorry for being a...a shit girlfriend." Her breath crashes against my face as she speaks. I open my eyes slowly.

"You're not." I breathe. "Lo, you're really not-" I lean towards her, and kiss her slowly. Her lips are heavenly soft, and taste of salty tears. And I try to put a lot of the things that I couldn't say into that kiss. And when I tear my lips away from hers, she makes a funny little noise, half a gasp and half a sob. And she's not exactly breathing normally. "Please don't cry." I whisper, because I really don't know what else to say. I scrape her hair back away from her face, and I kiss her softly again. "Please, please don't cry."

"I'm not." She says shortly. I just sigh, and look at her.

"Okay." I breathe, because I really don't know what else I can say. I wrap one hand around her shoulders, and she rests her head on my chest. And her shoulders shake a little. She's choking back sobs. And I'm silent, perfectly still. Helplessly holding her as she cries herself to sleep. I don't know what I can do or what I can say.

* * *

**Lorraine's POV**

"Morning babe" She's still pulling on her clothes, smiling weakly as she walks into the kitchen. Her eyes flicker over me, quickly registering the cigarette trailing a dim line of smoke from between my fingertips. The smile droops, drips and then drops from her lips. Then she looks away. My heart suddenly seems to beat twice as fast as normal, and my throat feels too dry. I feel vaguely sick. I don't want to think about work. Or my sister. Or my colleagues. Or anything at all. I take a long drag of my cigarette, and roughly blow the smoke through my nose, half closing my eyes as I exhale. As though I'm enjoying the foul taste and the burning smoke making my eyes itch and my skin crawl. I hate it, I hate it all.

"Hey." The smoke gives a strange, translucent shape to my word. And I don't even try to smile. I drink a bit more coffee so I don't have to talk to her. But she doesn't try to start a conversation about last night, she just looks down as she finishes buttoning up her shirt, and then glances up at me again.

"You okay?" She mumbles.

"Yeah." I nod, and tap my nails on the table sharply. Drumming out a fast rhythm, concentrating on the sound so that I don't have to look at her or speak to her.

"Look-"

"I don't want to talk about it" I say sharply. I hear her sigh. I fix my mouth closed and try my very hardest not to care at all. I don't know if it works or not.

"Lo, you don't even know what I was going to say." Her voice is level, cool. Achingly reasonable, as though I'm some stroppy child who refuses to do her homework. She's so calm, controlled. And on the surface, maybe I am too. I don't know.

"I really don't want to talk about it, any of it." I reply sharply. Cracks tracing through and through my calm exterior. I bang my mug down on the counter. Coffee slips over the rim, splashing dark drops across the even darker marble. I see my reflection, blurred and almost unrecognisably distorted in the inky liquid. I close my eyes, and I breathe out. And then I speak again, softly. Dangerously. "We're going..." I take another drag. "...to be late for work." Rather than look at her, I stub out my cigarette. Ash smudges on the dark worktop. Glowing hot embers dying quickly.

"I'll be ready in a minute, you could've woken me you know."

"Didn't want to disturb you." There's something icy, deliberately distant in my voice. And I'm not sure why it's there, but something twisted inside my chest seems to like the way she looks as though I slapped her. She just looks at me for a moment, reeling in silence. And something behind her eyes shuts down. And she's angry. And suddenly she wants to spit words that will hurt me as much as I hurt her.  
"Didn't mind so much about disturbing me at three in the fucking morning though, did you?" She snaps in reply. And I don't give myself enough time to take in what she's said, my retort is instant and acidic.

"You know what, fuck you, I'm going to work." I spit the words as though they burnt me, grabbing my bag from where it was propped beside the table, and slamming my keys onto the counter top. Too forcefully. My knuckles white, my hands clutched into tight fists. "You can let yourself out." I stand, shrugging on my jacket, rattling my Ferrari keys through my shaking fingers.

"Lorraine-" She moves to grab my arm as I storm past her, but I flinch away. Holding up both my hands, shaking my head. Indicating that she shouldn't even think about touching me. My hair flying over my shoulders, my eyes flashing dangerously. Cold, freezing cold. I want to say something, anything. I want to shout at her, yell and swear and make her cry. But I can't, because my own tears threaten to blind me and choke me. Betraying me. So I just walk away, my head held high, one hand clutched desperately to my chest as I struggle to breathe. I run down the stairs, as fast as I could in six inch stiletto heels. "Oh, come on Lorraine!" She shouts after me, her voice echoing down the stairwell, but she doesn't even try to follow me. And I don't trust myself to reply, because my silence is stony and infinitely more dangerous than the tears threatening to overcome me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey, just letting you know that I'm not gonna be able to write anything for either of my fics until Tuesday at the earliest, because I'm going away. To Wales. Yay.**

**This chapter is bullshit. Soz. It's also extra-specially bad because it's nearly 1am and my spelling and grammar is shamelessly bad, I know. Hope everyone is having a nice summer and that, and thank you so much for reading and leaving me lovely comments and things and for putting up with this writing and stuff. Love you all.**

**Chapter 26**

**Lorraine's POV**

I pace up and down the corridor outside the head teacher's office. Through the little square window in the door, I can see my little sister, her head down, concentrating on the keyboard. I turn around abruptly, and start to walk away. And then turn, striding up to the office door yet again. It's as though she's magnetic, and I can't, I really can't get her out of my head. Through the tiny window in the wall of the inner office, I can just see Nikki. She's sitting at her desk, head in her hands as she reads through a thick sheaf of paperwork. But I can't see her face. I can't see her eyes. I wish I could.

I dig my nails deep into my own palms, and grit my teeth. I tilt my chin up, so if I were to cry, my tears would all well in my eyes, and not spill dangerously down over my cheeks. And then I reach out a hand, pushing open the door. I take three steps into the office, and I don't even glance down at my little sister, working at her desk. But her head snaps up as soon as I enter the office.

"Lo, what's wrong?" There's oceans of concern and genuine care in her voice, but I still can't look at her. I don't reply either. I stride to the door of the inner office. My fingertips colliding with the wood. My eyes skim over the tiny silver plaque on the office door. Reminding me that this is real. This is horribly, scarily real.

"Nikki, can I have a word?"

I speak before I can lose my nerve. And like my sister, she looks up at me sharply. Shock, anger and then a freezing cool floods through her eyes in quick succession. And then she looks down again. She taps her pen lid on the table.

"What?" She says. Her voice is level, but she makes it clear that she doesn't want to speak to me. She's too busy, she doesn't care. Not enough.

"I'm sorry." I say. And it doesn't mean a thing, she glances up at me, and then away again. She shakes her head a little. She looks disappointed, as though she somehow expected more of me. But I don't know what else I can say. "I'm really sorry Nikki."

"Anything else?" Her pen is trailing across the page as she writes notes. I take a step towards her. She still doesn't look up, so I take another step, and another, until I'm standing directly the opposite side of the desk to her. I tap my nails nervously on the wood, and watch the way the tendons in her neck twist as she pointedly looks away from me.

"Nikki, please don't do this." I breathe. She doesn't reply instantly. She makes me sweat. I sit in the chair opposite to her, as though I'm nothing more than some naughty kid again. Dragged in to see the headteacher. She looks across the table at me, and rests her chin on her hands. Her face serious. There's a smudge of black ink on the side of her thumb, and a matching one on her index finger.

"Do what?" She tilts her chin to one side, and frowns a little.

"Do this." I gulp down the lump rising in the back of my throat. "Fuck with me like this. Just say it."

"Say what?" She's playing stupid. She knows what I mean, she knows precisely what I mean. She knows what I'm scared of, she knows why I'm biting back numbing fear. She knows me, inside out. And maybe that's why I'm so scared.

"Say it's over."

"Is that what you want?"

"No." My reply is instant, almost embarrassingly quick. A shadow of a smile creeps across her face, but a moment later she's serious again. I wonder if she thinks that this is funny, if this is all just a game to her.

"Well, that's not what I want either." She shrugs a little as she speaks, as though none of it really matters. As though my heart isn't beating double, triple time.

"Good." I breathe. And suddenly I'm biting back the urge to smile, laugh in relief. She looks at me and sighs, leaning back in her chair and looking at me coolly. She spreads her hands on the desk, stretching out her aching fingers. She looks down at her hands, and flexes her shoulders a little. I can actually taste the silence in the room. Boiling hot, tight between our bodies. And then she speaks, and her voice is low and cool.

"Look at us both Lo. Look at us." She glances up, and makes eye contact, as though it's effortless. The easiest thing in the world. And suddenly, nothing else really matters. Because she's here, and I'm here, and she's looking at me hungrily, as though she might never quite be able to look at me enough.

"Nik,I never meant to speak to you like that, and I know I'm stupid and I'm scared stupid and-" I start to speak. But she holds up one slender finger to silence me as she glances away. And suddenly the words stop tumbling from between my lips. Leaving me breathless. And leaving her drowning in her power over me. I try to breathe normally.

"Can we talk after work?" She murmurs. I nod. And she smiles. I get up slowly, and walk round to the other side of the desk. I lean against it, and she tilts her chin up towards me. She lets my lips skim over my own, until I can't think and I can't breathe and all I know in this world is her lips achingly close. And I'm too scared to close the gap between them. And, just when I don't think I can take it any longer, she leans forwards a little, and she kisses me gently. One kiss. I twist my hands through her hair, and try to pull her closer, but she just wriggles away from me. And she's biting her lips to stop herself from smiling at me. I watch her for a moment, and then she releases her bottom lip from between her teeth. "Later." She murmurs, and falls back into her straight-backed office chair. Flipping aimlessly past half a dozen pages so that she doesn't have to look at me.

"Okay" I breathe. And she nods. And I leave.

And I'm still not sure if I'm forgiven, and I'm definitely not sure how I feel. But I know that we'll be okay.

* * *

"Hey babe." Her voice is soft, and her words are blown from her lips by the fresh breeze the moment she opens her mouth. But I can read her lips, and I know the words are meant for me and only me. And then she smiles a little, and she hurries down the front steps of the school towards me. I'm leaning back on the gleaming red bonnet of my car, waiting for her to fuss around the staffroom, collecting reports and answering questions. She seemed happy, relaxed, confident. She didn't seem to care about our colleagues eyes flickering far too quickly between the two of us. I cared though. And I left the moment I could, whispering to Nikki that I'd meet her outside. More glances exchanged between the staff. Me pretending not to notice, Nikki pretending not to care. I sigh as she strides confidently over to me. My car is the only one left in the wet tarmac car park. The road is quiet. She leans towards me, pinning my body back against the bonnet of my car as she kisses me roughly. And I kiss her right back, possessively maybe, as I wrap both my hands around her waist. Bunching the cool material of her shirt in my fists, nails in her waist. My tongue, her tongue, and she's a ridiculously good kisser, and it takes moments until I'm breathing a little too deeply, my chest rising and falling in tiny, gasping pants. And I want her to tell me that she loves me and that she needs me and that she wants me. But I know she won't. She just kisses me, slowing the kisses, letting me breathe onto her lips. Letting me murmur her name.

And then she pulls carelessly away from me. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that I wanted, needed something more. I bite back my frustration.

"We can't stand here snogging like a couple of kids." She sighs as she looks away from me, and holds onto her stack of papers a little tighter. Her knuckles are white. "I should go home."

"Come on, do you want a lift?" I tilt my head to one side.

"You read my mind," she smiles a little, and she looks tired and grateful. Too tired to fight and squabble anymore. "Thanks Lo." She breathes. I open the car door for her, and she gets in, stacking her papers on her lap and watching me cross to the other side of the car.

"Back to mine?" It's a rough suggestion, as I get into the car beside her. She looks at me for a moment as I start up the engine. And then she nods, and pulls on her seatbelt. I don't bother with mine, and I pull out of the schoolyard quickly, because I can't wait to be gone from there. All day the staffroom was buzzing with rumours and idle gossip, and now I'm aching to feel different, feel something a little more human again.

"Yeah." Her voice is soft, tired. Or maybe she's being cold, distant. I don't really know. I wish I could read her thoughts, I wish her emotions could be written right across her face, so that I could be sure to never read her wrong.

There's a long pause.

"We can talk, if you want?" I murmur. Feeling as though I've taken some great leap into the unknown, and nothing will ever quite be exactly the same ever again.

"What about, the weather?" She's laughing softly. And that sound makes something beneath my heart ache suddenly. Dully, ringing through my body. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, and I tell myself that I'm in control here. Lies lies lies lies.

"No, you know what I mean. We can talk about...feelings...how we feel...if you want?" My voice is so soft and so hesitant.

She laughs a little again, and I glance over to her. She's tipping her head back a little as she giggles. "That's not really your greatest talent, is it? Talking about feelings?"

"No, not really" I admit. And she's laughing again, for one, two heartbeats. And then she's serious. And she's touching my knee gently, her fingers tracing thin lines over my skin. I glance across at her, and she's not looking at me, even though I wish she would. Instead she's watching the greyish green sea fly past us and blur together as I first hit the speed limit, and then go over it, by twenty, thirty, forty miles an hour. Racing too fast, just like my heartbeat did when I felt her hand collide with my skin.

"Wind down the windows baby?"

"Okay." I press the button. There's a dull hum. And then slowly at first, and then all at once, I can hear the sound of the sea pressing onto my ears, eclipsing even the roaring of the seven hundred aluminium horses under my hood.

"Okay. We'll be okay, I promise." She breathes above the sound of the waves. And then she turns to look at me. "That's all there is to say really, isn't it?"

"Yeah" I breathe. My voice is soft, because I'm not sure if I've ever seen someone look as beautiful as she does at that moment. And I want her so, so badly. With the sea at her back and slivers of air tousling her hair, and her eyes are full of hope and love. And I'm trying my very best to put this moment somewhere safe, where it can't be damaged by tears or hurting or shadows. Nor by the tide's relentless beating on the rocks.


	27. Chapter 27

**Okay, sorry I haven't written anything forever, I've been doing things. Things that aren't writing-based.**

**I have good news and bad news. I'll give you the bad news first. Unfortunately, I thiiiiiink (not entirely sure though) that this is the longest chapter I've ever written for this fic, so it's even more pointless and bullshit than normal. Sorry about that. The good news is that this is the last chapter of this fic! Hell-fucking-yeah! Hope it wasn't too painful to read, although I am fully aware that I wrote the vast majority of this fic late at night/in the obscenely early morning when my spelling is (understandably) goddamn awful (like, worse than usual) and there is no plotline or character development or anything at all really. Yeah. Soz. In-keeping with tradition, this new chapter has not been proof-read. Also, thank you all so much for putting up with it and reading it and leaving me completely lovely reviews and things, honestly, it really does mean a lot and it makes me smile and I love you all fucking tonnes. So thank you a lot. **

**Basically, yeah. Hope this wasn't unbearably bad. And if anyone has got any banging good suggestions/requests for anything else they want me to write, please send me them (my twitter is PostItNoteFan, or you can pm me on here but I have no idea how that works) and I'll try to do my best. **

**So that's it, I'll shut up now.**

**Thank you.**

**Chapter 27-Final chapter**

**Lorraine's POV**

I close the flat door slowly, softly. It's so quiet that I can hear my own breathing, a little raspy. Nervous perhaps. I'm not sure though. I'm really not sure how I feel. I know that she's quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Dangerously silent. As we'd climbed the glossy white stairs the only sound had been my sharp-toed stilettos clicking against the floor. She'd walked far too close to me, her shoulder almost brushing against my own. Exactly thrice my hand had accidentally brushed against hers but she didn't hold my hand. And I didn't really dare press my palm against hers.

"Do you umm...want a drink or anything?" I murmur as she walks a little further away from me, crossing the room. She doesn't reply to me instantly, and to fill the silence I wriggle out of my blood-red leather jacket and leave my bag beside it on the sofa.

"No, no, I'm okay thanks." She breathes. I walk slowly towards her. Four, five steps across the highly polished floorboards. She doesn't turn to look at me as she speaks though. Not until I know she must be able to feel my soft breath on the back of her neck, and she can feel my trembling hands carefully touching her waist. Only then she turns slowly to look at me.

And her lips crash against my own. My eyes are squeezed closed, my breaths are tiny and a little desperate. Eager to please. I know. But it works. She rather protectively wraps both her hands tight around my waist, and pulls me closer to her. Her body flush against my own as she slowly begins to unzip my dress.

"You're just such a bitch sometimes Lo." She breathes as I pull away from her. It takes a moment for her soft words to register in my muddled brain. And I lean a little closer to her.

"Yeah? Am I?" I mumble onto her lips. And I'm arching one eyebrow and she's laughing a little as she peels my dress softly away from my shoulders. And she's dropping kisses down my neck now. Jesus Christ.

"Yeah. You're a confusing, cold, heartless bitch." She whispers, her breath hissing a little. She's biting my neck gently, her voice soft. Teasing me. I wriggle a little closer to her, sliding her jacket off her shoulders. And it falls to the floor. Her fingertips are running down my neck, and then impatiently I pull her chin down so I can kiss her once again. Her lips burning, scalding hot.

"That's why you like me, you know." I think she smirks as I reply. And she's biting softly at my bottom lip.

"Yeah?" Her voice so soft I don't hear what she's saying, instead I feel the shape of the word clashing against my cheek. Her grip on my waist tightens a little, her nails just digging into the soft skin of my stomach through the thin fabric of my dress. And she spins my body around, pinning me against the sharp edge of the marble kitchen worktop. Digging into the small of my back. Her hands shake a little as she finishes unzipping my dress, tugging a little too roughly at the zipper. This dress cost nearly two thousand pounds, but I don't care if she rips it. "You think that's why I like you?" She's murmuring, looking down at me. Running the tip of her thumb across my bottom lip. Wiping away my smudged lipstick.

"Yeah." I reply. And I kiss her slowly, my mouth open, my tongue soft. My eyes wide open, looking up at her. Her chest is so close to my own that I might be able to feel her heart beating, but I'm not really sure. I know she's trying to laugh as I kiss her, at little more roughly now, but she can't quite force enough air into her lungs.

* * *

I lie flat on my back. Gasping. Lights still popping before my eyes. Every muscle of my body still singing. Lit up. The flames fading, but still smoking hot through my veins

"Oh my god, oh, god." I breathe. "God Nikki."

"Okay?" She whispers onto my skin. And she kisses my stomach, once, twice.

And I murmur it as her name is still faltering from my lips. So quietly that even she might not hear me. "I really fucking love you."

And I realise, half a heartbeat later. Half a heartbeat too late. For a sticky second she doesn't say a thing. And when she does, I feel sweat leap to my pores again. Burning hot. Scorching through the facade I've hidden behind for as long as I can remember.

"Me too." She breathes. My breathing slowing, my ribs still rising and falling a little too fast. A little faster than normal. I can feel her sweat and my sweat drying on my skin. And I like it. I close my eyes, and concentrate on just feeling. Feeling everything. Every single moment, each of her breaths that caress my skin. Maybe I shiver a little. I'm not sure, but I know a thin chill of goosebumps writhe though my body. She lies on her side, right next to me. Propping her head up, her elbow digging deep into the pillow. I wish she'd hold me, wrap her arms around my body and hold me tight as we sleep. I know she's looking at me, I can feel her gaze burning into my skin. Through my flesh. I wriggle a little, pulling the sheets a fraction higher over my body. I hear her sigh.

"I wish you'd open your eyes." I can feel her hands skating over my ribs, her fingertips bouncing off each tiny ridge of bone.

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what you're thinking."

I open my mouth, ready for a sharp reply to slice from my tongue. And then my phone rings. Obtrusive. Cutting a thick slice of air away from between us, filling the gaping hole with incessant buzzing.

"Oh for fuck's sake-" I murmur, wining a little as I roll away from her across the bed, towards my phone, blinking at the screen a little blearily. And Nikki, she's holding the sheets higher across her chest, as though whoever is calling might miraculously be able to see her if I were to accept the call.

"Ignore it Lo." She's whispering, as she tries to pull my body back towards her, but somehow I'm slipping through her arms. Skin on skin. Sweat on sweat. I don't hear her sigh, but I feel her ribs rise and fall a little more sharply than usual as I pick up my phone, my fingers already hovering above the screen, ready to accept the call. "Who is it?" she asks, her voice no longer soft and coaxing, but a little sharper now. More urgent as she watches me frown, and I'm grasping my bottom lip between my teeth as I read the name on the screen. My shoulders fall a little, and I feel tension wriggle through my back.

"It's the office, why the hell are they calling me at this time?" I murmur, juggling my phone from hand to hand as though it burnt my palms.

"Ignore them..." she's whining softly, her breath hissing through her teeth as she speaks. And I glance back at her, my bottom lip still caught between my teeth. And I watch her frown quickly flying from her face as I lean back towards her slowly.

"You're a bad influence on me." I breathe before she kisses me softly. I think that I smile into the kiss, because her breaths are heavenly light. Her fingers shake a little as she scoops all my hair over one shoulder, and she's softly running her fingernails down the back of my neck. And I like that, I really like that. And I know that she can tell, as I breathe out slowly. Her eyes closing as I let my body relax against hers.

And then she tears her lips away from mine, eyes snapping open. Suddenly burning bright through the inches of close darkness between us.

"God, you're beautiful" she whispers to me. I shake my head, tilting it to one side as she speaks. I don't know what to say. So I lean closer again, and kiss her bottom lip. Just once. And she's smiling a little bit.

"How about, I go get us something to eat, and a great bottle of wine, and we can...umm...continue this later?" I whisper back to her, and she's smiling at me through the darkness. As I speak, she raises one hand and absent-mindedly draws little shapes across my collarbones. Her eyes sliding down my face, fixing on my chest. I raise a hand and tip her chin up again, so her eyes can meet mine once again.

"You don't have to." She's frowning a little bit, but her eyes are so soft and so appealing and so genuine. And I just wriggle a little closer.

"I want to" I breathe, and she's wrapping her hands through my hair, and she presses a kiss onto my forehead.

"Okay," she rests her forehead against my own, and she looks down for a moment, and then back up at me. "Who could resist those eyes?"

"No-one, ever." I giggle softly. Twisting a strand of her dark hair around my fingertips, until it falls back against her cheek in a soft curl. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't mind, surprise me." I watch her as she falls back onto the sheets beneath me. And I look down at her for a moment, and then I swing my legs out of bed. I tip-toe across my bedroom, right on the very balls of my feet, stepping into underwear and wriggling into a skin-tight leather skirt. And I twist around to zip it up, and I know she's watching me. I know she's watching the muscles in my back knot together, tight, perfect. Watching the way my hair falls over my shoulders. Watching me, with something like insatiable hunger in her eyes. As though she might never quite be able to look enough. "You really don't do casual, do you?" She's murmuring as I step into viciously red heels, the arches of my feet aching a little already.

"I don't see you complaining" I smirk, just one corner of my mouth moving as I speaks. And she's still watching me as I pull on her shirt, and then I kneel beside her on the bed once again. My knees creating deep dimples into the hot mattress. And I lean against her as I reach across the bed for my phone.

"I'm not." She murmurs, smiling right back at me as she button up her shirt I'm wearing, her hands moving slowly as she runs her fingertips gently across the exposed skin of my chest. Tracing invisible, impossibly thin lines. And I pretend that her touch doesn't make my heart beat too fast as I casually run my fingers through my knotted hair. And I shrug on her jacket too, even though it's a little too big for me, and I'm pocketing my phone. And she smiles at me, appealing. Before I really know what I'm doing, I'm bending down to kiss her again. Tilting my chin down. She lets her lips linger for a moment, maybe a little longer than normal. And it sends my stomach fluttering away into freezing butterflies, icicles dripping from their wings, as though it were the very first time she'd ever kissed me. And when she's kissing me properly, I can feel her hot smile, kissing me with her mouth wide open, her tongue gentle. And I know, more surely than I've ever really known anything, that I'm really, properly happy. I wriggle away from her once again, before my heartbeat begins to properly race away. Out of control. And I'm crawling across the sheets to the other side of the bed. And she's looking down to the floor, trying to hide the smile creeping across her face.

"Umm, I'll...see you in a bit..." I murmur, she looks up at me as I speak, maybe a little shyly, and she shakes her hair back from her face.

"Yeah" she murmurs. Her voice so soft that I can barely even hear her. And she's wriggling down into the sheets, and propping herself up in bed on only one elbow. Watching me complacently as I leave, and she's biting down on her lips. I walk slowly across the room. My hot palm meets the cool metal handle of the bedroom door. It feels good. Reminding me that there is something else in this world but me and her and my bed. And suddenly, I'm very almost stupidly brave. My heart flutters, pounding hot blood to my head so I can barely think at all.

"And Nikki-?" I turn around to look at her as I speak. I know my voice is too fast, too eager. For a second I hover, the words I want, need, to say are dangerously close to just dripping from the very tip of my tongue. I dig my nails into my palms, and I tell myself that I'm brave and I'm strong. And I know that I could so easily say that it's nothing, and slip away from her. But it's not nothing, it's damn nearly everything that matters to me at that moment. But maybe I'm still not quite brave enough. I hover an instant longer, all my resolve sliding away from me. And yet before I can blush and murmur some excuse and hurry away, she's speaking quickly.

"Yeah, what is it?" She asks calmly, looking up at me. Her eyes steady.

"I meant it you know." Somehow my voice is deathly fast. Words falling from my lips at a million miles an hour. I follow her eyes as they fly across my face. And I wonder if she can read fear in my blue eyes, under the thin layer of hot happiness floating like oil slicked over the darkness of my pupils. Her lips are still slightly parted, I watch her bottom lip tremble. I think I'm shaking a little too. And then, miraculously, I speak again. "I meant, I mean, I meant what...what I said earlier."

"I know." She whispers, and she nods slowly. A quiet smile on her face. Something triumphant looming behind her eyes. Her smile cracks a little wider. "Me too"

And all those words seem to hover, translucent in the cool air. Cutting hot friction between us, and I don't know what to say. I don't know what else I can say to her. Suddenly, everything I could even possibly say seems to flit right through my fingers, and my head is completely blank. Empty, save for those words swirling through my head. "She loves me, she loves me, she loves me, she loves-" But before I can say anything at all, she just smiles. And I know that's it. Nothing else needs to be said. And I silently blow a kiss to her.

And then I leave, closing my bedroom door softly behind myself. I know she can hear me grabbing my jangling keys, and then she can hear the front door of my flat slamming shut too. But I barely hear it. A suffocating buzzing seems to fill my ears, dangerously pressing against my eardrums. Until I can't think about anything at all. And I don't walk, I seem to fly down the cool marble stairs, my feet barely even touching the ground. I'm going downstairs, but with every step I take, I feel as though I'm floating higher and higher above the world. Maybe this is euphoria. Fuck, maybe this is love. I don't know. But I know that my heart seems to beat faster, my pulse rate rising higher. My hand on the front door.

There are no stars scattered across the velvet black sky, but instead the darkness seems to emit something purer than a silvery glow. Something that I can't see, but I can only feel with every pore of my shuddering body. And when the cool night hair clashes against my skin, which still clings to her scent, it feels like cool, beautiful heaven.

**Nikki's POV**

And when she's gone, when she's pulled out of the driveway and the headlights of her glistening Ferrari have been swallowed up by the looming darkness, I fall back against the pillows. I don't like the way the night swallowed her up, leaving me alone in her bedroom. The silk sheets feel icy cold when she's not there. I don't know why I let her leave like that, why couldn't I just convince her to stay here? I'm touching my tongue carefully to my lips. I think I can still taste her kisses, but all traces of her lips are quickly slipping away from me. Like trying to catch a dream in your wide open hands. And I'm scared in a moment I might not remember how she made my head spin as she kissed me. And I wonder what else I should've said to her, or even if I should've said anything at all. I don't know. I close my eyes, and despite the nagging nervousness at the back of my mind, I can't help but smile.

* * *

I've been fading seamlessly in and out of consciousness, but I'm vaguely aware that she's been gone a long time. Too long maybe. I think about shops being shut, her impatient sighs as she drives past another shop, its heavily graffitied shutters pulled down. Locked up. And she'd accelerate again, effortlessly changing gear and sliding down the dark streets at twenty miles an hour, wracking her brain over where she could buy a decent bottle of wine in the early hours of the morning. Almost unconsciously, I curl up into a ball, and the pillows still cling to the scent of her perfume. I blink, and I can almost feel her shadow flit into bed beside me. Filling the dark space beside me with icy water and even colder doubts. From a million miles away, I can faintly hear screaming sirens. And I can picture their blue lights sweeping over the glossy wet tarmac, smooth like a mirror and glinting from the ivory crests of the waves, dancing through the night. And suddenly I'm wide awake. Restless.

I get out of bed slowly, stretching my back, and then leaning forwards a little as I run one hand through my hair. Roughly. Dressing carelessly. Thinking vaguely about waiting on the balcony for her, so that I could see her car's brilliantly white headlights cutting through the velvety darkness as she sweeps down the coastal road. Too fast, of course. Pulling on one of her jumpers. Cashmere dancing, dreamlike, across my flesh. Feeling like heaven and smelling of her skin. I grab my phone in case she calls me. And I close the bedroom door softly behind myself. Crossing the shadowy living room. Resting the flat of my hand against the cool glass door. To remind myself that I can't just sweep through it, wraithlike. I can see the outline of my hand when I take it away, suddenly surrounded by a halo of white, miniscule beads of water. I open the door, freezing cold keys in my sweaty palm as I unlock it. The keys turn smoothly, too easily maybe. I leave it open, the warmth of the flat gushing out into the night.

It's so dark I can't see the sea churning below me. But I can hear it. Pounding against the rocks, crashing against the sea wall. I sit back in the chair, and look at the tiny mounds of ash gathering on the wooden boards by my feet. Miniscule Himalayas constructed by her sadness. And the sight gives me a funny, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. So I close my eyes and I lean back in my seat, tipping my chin up. Listening and thinking. Thinking of her and us and all the things I would say to her when she comes back. Until it's my thoughts and the sea, both restless in the night.

And suddenly my phone is ringing. On the glass table beside me, my phone is buzzing, bright light from the suddenly illuminated screen cutting through the velvet blackness of the night. My heart leaps almost painfully in my chest, and I try not to smile a little as I reach towards it, thinking of Lorraine calling me, propping her phone between her chin and her shoulder, standing in the neon-bright supermarket aisle. Her high heels, glossy red soles on the linoleum tiles. She'd be pulling my jacket a little tighter around her shoulders, the sleeves falling way down over her wrists. And god, she's so beautiful. All her soft blonde hair a mess, all traces of her perfect lipstick now long gone. Calling me as she coolly, critically inspects the wine labels. The decisive, sharp young businesswoman suddenly incapable of making a decision. Wanting to know which I'd prefer. The thought makes me grin to myself, my stomach tying itself into happy knots.

But the smile slides from my lips as I see that the name lighting up the screen is not Lorraine's, but Michael's. I remember him calling earlier, and wonder vaguely if Lorraine ever called him back. But I don't really care. All the same, I hesitate for a moment before I accept the call.

"Hey?" I say, frowning and clearing my throat a little as I speak. Trying, in vain, to erase any trace of hot sex from my voice.

"Nikki, it's Michael..." He doesn't quite sound himself. His voice shakes a little, I think. Shakes, and then fades away quickly. I wonder if he's been drinking.

"Yeah, hey Michael, what's wrong, it's ummm..." I blink at the time on my phone, and then hold it closer to my ear and start to speak again. "It's quite late, early I mean..."

"Sonya called me, they called her mum-" He's stammering. His accent thicker than usual. Something niggling in the back of my mind. I sit up straighter. Tense.

"What are you talking about? Michael, you're not making any sense." My voice is low, slow, as though I'm talking to a young child who doesn't quite understand my words.

"Yeah, yeah...Nikki, I think you should get here...Right now." And then I realise that I'm the one who doesn't understand. I realise that it's not alcohol, but burning, sweating shock that's blurring up his voice. I realise that something is horrifically wrong. And my heart leaps to my throat. Blinding me. And I'm momentarily struck dumb with a blow that seems to punch all the air from my body. I gasp a little. Nails in my palms.

"What's wrong? Michael?" My voice is too quick, desperate. I can hear my own panic colouring in the words, bold scarlet red as I force them from my tongue. I can still taste Lorraine's lips against my own. Mixing with my cold fear. Tasting of salty terror and her soft lipstick. Good god.

His voice shakes. And all the air is torn from my lungs. Ripped from me.

"It's...it's Lorraine."

Leaving me.

Leaving me bleeding.

* * *

Back of a taxi. Lights popping past me. Vomit in my throat. Michael's garbled voice in the phone. Smashing into my head. And I can hear his words.

And I can see it all, flitting before my fading eyes. Gushing red paint of her Ferrari. Dark, twisting road. The sea wall. Breaking waves on concrete. Breaking lifetimes too late. Breaking her. Dark, twisting metal. Gushing red-

I can't process it at all, this isn't happening, this can't be happening, I pinch myself and I can't feel a fucking thing. I wait to wake up. Shivering and sweating. My heart would be pounding, but she'd be safe in my arms. And I watch more lights sliding away from me. And with each one, I feel as though I've lost something irreplaceable.

Engines grinding to a halt. I can hear the sea. As I run through the deserted hospital car park. Heaving with gushing silence. Pressing into me until it feels like a blade lodged within my chest. Smashing into my heart.

I can hear screaming sirens. Garbled sounds, and it feels as though they're calling her name through the air. Hellish blue lights sweeping through the night. Smashing waves drenching my eyes. No tears at all. Sticky hot reception. My voice perfectly level. Her name. Repeated over and over and over. Telling the mannequin girl on the desk that I have to see her. Now.

White lights pouring past me. I can't stop myself from running. Now that everything is broken, time is miraculously damaged too. A million years sprinting down a corridor. A second, pummelling the 'up' button on the lift until it's black and blue and glowing red. Close confines of the lift. Nails in my palms, I can still feel her nails digging into my back. Until I can't breathe.

Plastic seats and Michael holding me tight. Saying disjointed words. Car crash. Speeding. Jesus Christ.

And then a sharp grenade of question marks, puncturing my skin. Was she drunk? Sad? How the hell?

And Sonya's dumb shock. Her messy tears. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed. Praying for something, anything. And when I open them, the world spins. A doctor with grim lines running through his flesh. And I can read the worst in his face before he even opens his deathly pale lips. Blue-ish. As though he were the one with the faltering heart and collapsing lungs.

Faltered. Collapsed.

And then those three little words. Twisting around my head until the white ceiling fades into the white floor and no tears can pour from my blinded eyes.

Dead at scene.


End file.
